Familiar Strangers
by Purupuss
Summary: Complete! When something unexpected happens to one of the team, how will they all cope?
1. One

** Familiar Strangers**

_At the time that Closetfan was posting 'Funeral For a Brother', Quiller and I were having a conversation (as much of a conversation as you can have via email on different sides of the globe) and saying how it was one of those stories that you couldn't wait for the next chapter because it captured the imagination._

_We also discussed how different authors would treat the same basic subject in totally different ways. I had my ideas and Quiller had her own. Our ideas were not necessarily better, but totally different to Closetfan's treatment of the subject._

_And we left it at that._

_And then one day, I think it was a boring day at work, all of a sudden I had the outline for a complete story. Based on the basic premise of Closetfan's tale, but still different. Well when you get inspiration like that your muse won't let go until you've got it down on 'paper', so here it is._

_I've deliberately not re-read 'Funeral for a Brother' so that Closetfan's story won't influence me, but having said that I'm not denying that elements of it may have stuck in my subconscious and I may have felt they were good enough to be used again. If that has happened, my apologies, Closetfan, and please consider it to be a compliment. 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.'_

_Thanks to Quiller and Calliope for their help and ideas._

_Of course I can't lay claim to anything directly related to Thunderbirds, other people have that pleasure, but I am grateful to all those involved with its conception and execution 40 years ago. They've given me, and others who write fan fiction, a wonderful, mind stimulating hobby._

_On with the story…_

_Enjoy._

_Purupuss _

**One**

Gordon looked out of the windscreen of the Excavator. The surrounding terrain seemed so brown and lifeless. On the surface the destruction appeared to be complete.

It wasn't until rescue organisations had arrived on the scene that it became obvious that somehow, miraculously, people had survived.

In this part of the world, people had little. They lived how they could and where they could. In this particular settlement, where they could had been on the top of a cliff. A cliff that appeared to have been made entirely of mud and clay.

This rainy season had hit fast and it had hit hard. The ground had little time to absorb the deluges that had poured onto it day after day. The mud that made up the cliff had become sodden and unstable until one day, only yesterday; it had been unable to withstand the pressures any longer. It had collapsed into the valley below, taking over half of the town with it. A nearby river had been dammed and diverted its course, so now it ran alongside the unstable hillside, eroding it away. Not only had half the town lost its homes and lives, the remaining houses were sitting on a ticking time bomb. The residents who had survived would have to suffer the distress of not only losing their family, friends, and neighbours. They would be losing their homes as well.

People, who had been going about their normal, mundane routines, had suddenly found themselves sliding helplessly down the hillside. Some had been buried in the mud and rock that had once supported them. Others, miraculously, had survived. It was these that International Rescue had spent the last 36 hours trying to save.

Other rescue organisations were on hand as well, cleaning and caring for the dirty, battered bodies of the locals who had survived, and arranging the disposal of those who hadn't.

As Gordon watched an obviously full body bag being carried into a tent that was being used as a mortuary, he felt an intense sense of sadness for those who had lost their lives so quickly and cruelly. But it would have been worse for those who had remained alive when that great mass of earth had ceased its downward movement. For those who were trapped it meant a long, slow, agonising death. Unless rescuers, such as International Rescue, were able to get to them first.

It was the fact that International Rescue was able to help a good many of these people that kept Gordon in this game; that kept him from only seeing the death and destruction. They had done all they could, but Scott had just radioed in saying that their high-tech scanners weren't picking up any more life signs from the vicinity of that great pile of mud, rock and debris. 

"It doesn't seem right, does it?" Gordon said to his brother. "We come in, rescue those we can and then leave, leaving the hard clean up jobs to everyone else. I feel guilty sometimes."

"I know what you mean," Scott agreed. "But we can't hang around here any longer than we have to. We might be needed somewhere else in the world within the next 24 hours, and we've got to be ready. And it's not only our equipment that we've got to prepare is it? It's us as well. You sound as tired as I feel. It's not as if we've got another team to take our place."

"There's always Alan, Tin-Tin, Grandma and Kyrano," Gordon suggested flippantly. "I can picture Grandma at the controls of Thunderbird Two."

Scott chuckled. "Try suggesting that to Virgil. There's no way he'd let Grandma anywhere near Two's pilot seat…" He paused briefly. "On a more serious note…"

"Yep, Scott."

"Can you clear the road out of here for the authorities? Once that's smoothed down, we'll pack up. Virgil's on his way back from his last trip now."

"F-A-B."

Scott changed frequency. "How far out are you, Virgil?"

His brother was sounding as tired as the rest of them. He'd made at least 30 flights in the last 36 hours. "About five minutes, Scott. Have you got any more for me?"

"No. That's it. I've got Gordon tidying up the road a bit. Once he's finished that you can load the Excavator up and head home."

"Okay. In that case, once I'm down I'll give you a hand packing away Mobile Control."

Scott appreciated the offer. Mobile Control was mobile in the same way that the earliest portable computers were less portable and more luggable. The console had its own transportion unit, but that worked best on flat, even surfaces. On terrain such as he was looking at now, Mobile Control seemed to get a mind of its own and it was always a struggle for one man to steer it back to Thunderbird One. With two it was relatively easy.

Virgil remembered something. "Remind me, when we get home, to talk to Brains about designing a smaller ambulance style aircraft."

"Why? Wasn't Thunderbird Two up to the task?" Scott asked, knowing his brother wouldn't be able to resist the bait.

"No, she's handling like a dream, as she always does," Virgil replied a trifle curtly. "But I've got to admit that when we're only carrying a couple of patients, she's a little more plane than we need. Especially when there's no room for Two to land. I think that a smaller craft, with VTOL capabilities, one that could fit inside the pod, and that could carry, say four or so beds, would be ideal in situations like the one we've just had."

Scott had to agree. When International Rescue had initially arrived on the scene he'd put Virgil and Thunderbird Two into immediate service as an air ambulance. For those injured, a quick flight was infinitely preferable to a long, bumpy drive on almost non-existent roads.

The first few flights had been hectic and full. Thunderbird Two would no sooner touch down when Scott would be marshalling the next wave onboard, eager to get them to full medical treatment. As time had gone by, fewer and fewer patients had required the emergency airlift. Virgil's last trip had transported only two patients – the last surviving victim of the mudslide and a member of the Red Cross who'd fallen and broken a leg.

"How would you carry a plane?" Scott asked. "The Excavator takes up a lot of room."

"I was thinking that maybe we could suspend it from the roof of the pod," Virgil suggested. "What do you reckon?"

Scott thought for a moment. "The idea's got possibilities…"

"I don't know why I'm mentioning it to you though," Virgil said. "You'll only forget. If it's not to do with Thunderbird One, you've got a memory like a sieve."

"Well yours can't be that good if you're asking me to remind you about Thunderbird Two," Scott replied genially. "Why don't you tie a piece of string around your finger? At least then you'll remember that you've got to remember…"

"Hang on, Scott," Virgil interrupted.

"What's up?" Scott caught the serious tone in his brother's voice and reverted back into business mode.

"I don't know. I thought I saw something on the cliff face. I'm going to try to get a better look."

In the distance Scott could see Thunderbird Two lose altitude and go into a hover.

"No. It's no good. I can't get close enough to see," Virgil said in frustration.

"What do you think it is?"

"Could be anything. Probably nothing."

"But you want to check it out anyway?"

"Uh, huh. I'll have to land to get a closer look."

"F-A-B. Let me know if you need help. I won't knock down Mobile Control until I get the all clear from you."

As he watched Thunderbird Two land close to the slip, Scott knew that it was more than idle curiosity that had caused Virgil to want to investigate whatever it was on the cliff.

'Gut instinct'. There was nothing scientific about it, but as they'd spent more and more time in the rescue business, it was something they'd all developed and come to rely on. It was the thing that when all your instrumentation told you you should be going left, would tell you to go right. In that situation, nine times out of ten, right was the way to go.

Five minutes later Scott had a call from Gordon. "How far do you want me to clear?"

"How far have you gone?"

"I've reached the road… if you can call it a road."

"Well, short of laying concrete all the way to the city, that's the best you'll going to be able to do. Pack it away, Gordon."

"F-A-B."

Ten minutes later and Gordon was back at Mobile Control. "It's going to be a heck of a job cleaning the Excavator."

"A bit muddy is it?"

"Yep." Gordon examined his oldest brother critically. On this rescue Scott had spent most of his time at Mobile Control directing proceedings, with occasional excursions to assist with digging that required more finesse than the Excavator could achieve.

To an outsider the Rescue Co-ordinator's role may have seemed to be the cushy job, but Gordon knew that during the last 36 hours many life and death decisions had been placed in Scott's lap. Scott was the best person Gordon knew at making these decisions, but even he would feel the strain of holding people's lives in his hands after 36 hours. Scott looked drained and Gordon said as much. 

"Thanks! And so do you!" Scott said in mock indignation before managing a tired smile. "Virgil sounded like you look and I feel. It'll be good for us all to get home…" His smile dissolved into a frown. "He should have reported in by now…"

As if in response Mobile Control sounded a communication alert.

"Speak of the devil," Gordon said.

Scott picked up his microphone. "Go ahead, Virgil."

They were both shocked to hear an anguished cry from the speakers of Mobile Control.

"Virgil!" Scott yelled into the mike in alarm. "Virgil! Can you hear me?"

There was no reply.

"That was Virgil, wasn't it?" Gordon asked urgently.

"Something's wrong." Scott didn't wait for an acknowledgement; instead he slammed down the button which locked Mobile Control and headed off at a run, with Gordon at his heels, to where he knew his brother had last been seen.

Scott was the first to arrive at a huge mountain of muddy debris. Ignoring the dirt that was spraying up onto his uniform, he quickly skirted it, hearing Gordon's footsteps slosh through the mud behind him.

"What's happened?" Gordon panted.

"Dunno."

Together they ran around a boulder. Together they skidded to a halt.

Ahead of them lay a muddy figure.It was lying deathly still. 

"Not him is it?" Gordon gasped.

"Don't think so. You keep looking." Scott ran over to where the figure was lying. He heard Gordon run up behind him. "What are you doing?"

"I had to be sure."

"Well it's not," with typical speed, Scott had already ascertained the situation. He'd decided no matter how much he needed to keep searching for his brother, there were some things that shouldn't be delegated. "Keep looking," he told Gordon.

"Right," Gordon grunted and continued the search.

Scott felt a lump form in his throat as he looked down at the still figure. Sometimes he hated his job.

The way her body lay battered and broken and her hazel eyes gazed sightlessly at nothing, he knew she was past all help. Despite the futility of the gesture he searched for a pulse in her throat.He was not surprised that there was no sign of life. 

The little girl couldn't be more than nine. The way her body was still warm told him that death was very recent. Sadly he pushed a curl off her face and then closed her eyes.

"Can I help?" a voice asked.

"No," he said quietly, still looking at the young face. "There's nothing we can do."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No. But I've seen enough death to know what it looks like!" It came out angrily and he instantly felt ashamed of himself. The punch bag in the gym at home would be getting a workout tonight. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like that."

"It's okay. Do you mind if I give an official opinion?"

"I don't mind. I'd be happy if you found me wrong." Scott rubbed his eyes wearily and heard the other person crouch down and begin the examination.

"What happened?" the doctor asked.

"I guess she fell." Scott stood and looked up at the top of the cliff. It was easier to rein in his emotions that way. From here he could see the edges of some dwellings that had only just managed to avoid falling with the others. "Maybe she wanted to see what was happening, and she got too close to the edge. Lucky she didn't fall into the river; we'd never have found her." He indicated where a muddy mass of water surged past between where they were standing and the cliff face.

"Yes… I'm afraid your diagnosis was correct."

Finally Scott looked at the voice's owner. It was a woman about his own age, with a Red Cross/Crescent insignia on her lapel. He was sure that the sadness he saw in her eyes was mirrored his own.

"Maria!" There was a scream from behind them. "Maria!" Ignoring the two adults who stood beside, a weather-beaten woman ran up and pulled the child into her arms. "Maria," she sobbed again and rattled off something incoherent in her own tongue. The doctor said something in soothing tones in reply. 

"Her mother?" Scott asked.

"Yes," the doctor confirmed quietly.

Scott felt he should say something comforting to the distraught woman, but realised he didn't know the appropriate words to say, in any language. His wristwatch telecom started beeping and he suddenly remembered their initial quest. "Have you found him?" 

"Looks like it. He's unconscious."

"Do what you can. Activate your homer. I'll get help." Scott looked anxiously at the doctor. "Are you free at the moment?"

"Yes," she replied in puzzlement.

"Good! Follow me. We may need your help." At a run he left the mother, still holding her daughter close, still wailing and rocking her distress. His watch dial had changed into a direction finder and it was homing into Gordon's signal. The doctor followed as closely as she could. 

Gordon crouched by his brother's side. Reassuringly, Virgil stirred. "Virgil? Can you hear me? You're going to be okay." He began his examination, still talking, still trying to reassure his injured sibling. "Everything's going to be fine, Virgil."

He stopped talking when he heard footsteps. "Scott! We're over here!"

His eldest brother surged into view, slightly out of breath from the long run over uneven terrain. "How is he? Virgil? Are you okay?"

"He seems to be flicking in and out of consciousness. Apart from that I can't find anything majorly wrong."

Deciding that Gordon was doing all that could be done at the moment, Scott stood back and checked that the doctor was still coming. He took in the scene. Virgil was lying on his back a short way up the side of the slip. From the grazes on his hands and face, mud on his uniform and the freshly dislodged earth above him it appeared that he had fallen from higher up the landslide. Gordon had clearly come to that conclusion too, as he was readying a neck brace. 

Scott gestured urgently to the doctor and then returned to his prone brother's side. "There's a doctor coming," he said gruffly.

Gordon glanced at him briefly. He knew that tone of voice. It meant that Scott was starting to feel that things were slipping out of his control. It had been a tough 36 hours for Scott… then there'd been that little girl… Gordon had known as soon as he'd seen her that she was dead… and now Virgil. When Scott sounded like that, to strangers he sounded cold, unfeeling, and officious. To his family it meant that a mask had been dropped over his emotions and he was to be supported as much as possible. "He'll be okay, Scott. If he can survive being shot out of the sky by a USN ship, he can survive a tumble down a mud heap."

Scott grunted a reply as the doctor arrived. She took in the patient's uniform. Her eyes compared the 'hand across the world' badge on his yellow sash with the logo on the neck brace. "He's a member of your team? What happened?"

"We don't know," Scott said.

"We're assuming he fell," Gordon supplied. "I can't find any evidence of any injuries. The brace is just a precaution."

"Good. What's his name?" She noted that the two International Rescue men hesitated. "No need for full name, rank and serial number. His first name will do."

"Virgil," Scott supplied.

"Okay, Virgil, lets see what's wrong with you." The doctor made a quick, efficient examination of her own. "You International Rescue agents know your stuff. I'd agree with your diagnosis, but I'd like to check him out more fully back in the field hospital."

"Gordon! Go get the hoverbike and stretcher!" Scott ordered.

"Okay... I'll be back soon, Virgil," Gordon said reassuringly. "Don't go anywhere…"

"Gordon! Go!" Scott barked.

"I don't like the way he keeps on losing consciousness," the doctor said as they waited.

"What does that mean?" Scott asked.

"We won't know until a full examination has been made," she shrugged. "And I doubt I've got the equipment to do that."

"Can he be flown? Is he stable?"

"I'll confirm that back at the hospital. I suppose you've got better facilities back at your base."

Scott nodded, his eyes on the pale face of his brother who was showing signs of reawakening.

A humming sound in the distance, growing louder, alerted them to the fact that Gordon was arriving on a hoverbike, towing a hover-stretcher behind him. He pulled up so the stretcher was parallel to Virgil, and jumped off his 'bike. "Any change?"

"He's maintaining consciousness," the doctor informed him.

"Good. We'll have you complaining about me flying Thunderbird Two home yet, Virgil," he said cheerfully.

"Gordon! Concentrate!" Scott ordered.

Gordon winked at the doctor, who was having trouble working out these two men, and helped Scott get the stretcher set up and Virgil moved onto it. With great care they transferred him to the carriage behind the hoverbike and strapped him in. The hover-stretcher was a bivalve shell design with the top hinged section made out of a tinted, transparent material. They closed it over their stricken brother. 

"Helps reduce dust and mud," Gordon explained to the doctor. "There's an oxygen feed, so he'll get plenty of air."

"You drive, Gordon," Scott instructed. "Doctor. You sit behind him. You can hang onto the backrest. I'll sit behind you and keep an eye on Virgil."

"Okay?" Gordon queried as the doctor looked slightly alarmed at the orders she was receiving. "Don't mind him. His bite is worse than his bark. He's worried."

How worried Scott was, was evidenced by the fact that he made no comment on his brother's statement.

The ride back to the field hospital was rapid and smooth. Throughout the entire journey Scott's eyes didn't leave the occupant of the stretcher. The doctor clung nervously to the back of Gordon's seat. She was glad when they arrived. Now it was her turn to take control. "Bring him inside," she instructed. 

Soon Virgil was lying on an examination bed inside the tent. The doctor made a more thorough examination, removing the neck brace and returning it to Gordon. "As long as he takes it easy he shouldn't need that."

Eventually she finished and walked over to where Scott and Gordon were standing anxiously off to one side. "There's no visible sign of anything wrong…" She hesitated. "Is he normally this quiet?"

The Tracy brothers glanced at each other nervously. They'd noticed that Virgil hadn't spoken since he'd regained consciousness. "Not this quiet, no," Scott replied.

"I see," the doctor's face betrayed none of her thoughts. "Maybe he needs to see a couple of friendly faces. See if you can get him to talk."

Willingly they hurried over to the bed. Scott remained on the left while Gordon scooted around to Virgil's right.

"How do you feel, Virgil?" Scott asked.

Virgil turned his head so he was looking at his brother but said nothing.

"What happened, Virgil?" Gordon enquired.

Virgil shifted his gaze back to his younger brother and remained mute.

"Virgil?" Scott said, concern starting to spill into his voice.

"Come on, Virgil. This silent treatment is almost frightening," Gordon tried to sound light-hearted and failed.

The silent treatment continued.

Gordon looked at Scott. Their eyes met briefly and carried the message of concern that they both felt.

"Please say something, Virgil," Scott pleaded.

Virgil looked back at Scott and finally broke his silence…

"Who are you?"


	2. Two

** Two**

"Who are you?"

Scott felt his mouth go dry at his brother's words. "What?"

Gordon gave an uneasy laugh. "I know I've got a sick sense of humour, Virgil. But even I don't think this is funny."

Virgil wasn't laughing has he moved his gaze to Gordon. He frowned. "Who are you?" he repeated.

Once again Scott and Gordon looked at each other. This time their concern was clear to anyone who was looking at them.

"Let me in there." The doctor gently eased Scott out of his seat so she could see Virgil better. "What's your name?" she asked quietly.

Virgil thought for a moment. "Virgil?" he said uncertainly.

"That's right," she replied with a reassuring smile.

"He's just heard it about 100 times," Scott interjected.

The doctor ignored him. "Do you know what day it is?"

"N-No."

The doctor tried again. "Do you know where you are?"

"No. Where am I?"

"In a hospital."

"Why are the walls made of cloth?"

"It's a field hospital, Virgil." The doctor had one last attempt. "Who do you work for?"

Virgil bit his lip and shook his head.

"Oh, heck," Gordon sat back. "What's happened to him?"

"I don't know," the doctor admitted. "I'm into mud and blood medicine, not neurology."

"Can you remember anything?" Scott was leaning over the doctor's shoulder.

"N-No. Sorry. What's my last name?"

"Uh," Scott looked anxiously at the doctor and cursed International Rescue's need for secrecy. "I can't tell you now. Later, when we're alone."

"Why?" Virgil asked, bewildered.

The doctor turned to Scott, and he took a step back to give her room. "I'd like to give him another examination, if you'll both excuse me."

"Uh. Yeah. Okay," Scott stammered and he followed Gordon back to their place at the side of the tent.

"What's happened?" Gordon hissed.

"I don't know," Scott admitted. "Could you see any injuries?"

"No head ones, apart from the grazes. Do you think it's amnesia?"

"Seems like it," Scott grimaced. "Look. Once he's got the all clear to go home, I'll take off and bring Alan back. You do what you can to get him comfortable in Thunderbird Two and then Alan can sit with him while you fly home. Are you happy with that?"

"Suits me. I'd be happier if it were Virgil piloting Thunderbird Two though."

"You and me both," Scott agreed. He turned quickly when Gordon nudged him. "Doctor?"

"I'm sorry," she started with. "I don't have the proper medical equipment here to make a full diagnosis."

"But it looks like amnesia?" Gordon asked.

"I would assume so. Hopefully it's only temporary. I'd suggest shipping him off to the nearest hospital, but whatever treatment your organisation can get him is bound to be better than what they can. Do you want to take him home?"

"We were discussing that," Scott told her. "I'm going to fly back to base to pick up a relief pilot. We'll shift Virgil into the sickbay of Thunderbird Two and Gordon will stay with him until we get back. That way he won't be left alone for too long."

"There's only three of you here?" she asked incredulously. "I'd assumed there would be a small army."

"No, ma'am. Only us three," Gordon told her.

"Amazing…" she said reflectively, "and you've done so much…" she shook herself out of her reverie. "That sounds like a good plan… Keep talking to him," she told Gordon. "Tell him things he should know. About his family, background, and work. Try to jog his memory. Tell him things you couldn't tell him with me here," she gave a wry grin.

He managed one in return. "Looks like Virgil's the ultimate secret keeper at the moment."

"Gordon!" Scott scolded, sickened by the idea.

"Well!" Gordon said indignantly. "Are you going or not?"

"Yeah," Scott said. He walked back to Virgil's bedside. "I'm leaving, Virgil," he told the patient. "I've told Gordon to look after you. They're going to shift you into Thunderbird Two."

"Thunderbird Two?"

"It's, ah, she's," Scott felt as if his throat was clamping shut. "You tell him, Gordon. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"F-A-B."

Gordon and the doctor got Virgil safely into Thunderbird Two's sickbay. Once she was convinced her patient was safe the doctor stood back and surveyed her surroundings, taking in the sterile conditions and high tech equipment. "Wow. This place makes the tent look like a fleapit. I can see he's in good hands."

"Oh, yes," Gordon said confidently. "We take care of all our patients. And if that patient happens to be one of our own, he gets five star service all the way."

"I can believe it." The doctor looked at her watch. "I'd like to stay and see what I can do to help, but I've got to see about ensuring the survivors are going to be okay. You know, check sanitary arrangements, that kind of thing. I'd better be going."

"I'll show you out," Gordon offered. "I'll only be a minute, Virgil. Don't worry."

"Goodbye, Virgil," the doctor said softly. "I hope things work out for you."

"Thank you," Virgil said. The words came out more as a croak than as recognisable speech.

"You're welcome," she replied, with a comforting smile.

Gordon showed her to the door.

They were at the hatch leading from Thunderbird Two to the outside world, when she stopped. She felt in a pocket. "Look, I know how your organisation feels about secrecy, but if it's at all possible I'd like to know how he gets on." She produced a card, which she gave to Gordon. "My email address is on there. If you're allowed, will you contact me?"

"I can't see any problems with that." He took the card and looked at the name on it - Doctor Kershaw. He suddenly realised that up to that point he hadn't known her name. "I only hope I can give you good news."

"I do too. International Rescue has helped so many people today, it doesn't seem fair…" There was a shout from the vicinity of one of the tents and they could see someone being assisted inside. "I'd better go."

"Thank you," Gordon said sincerely. He gave her a quick wave goodbye and hurried back to the sick bay. "That wasn't too long, was it?" he said, trying to sound cheerful. "Now we'll have to wait. It'll take Scott about an hour to get back. Then Alan can sit with you and I'll fly us home."

"Scott won't fly with us?" Virgil asked.

"If you want him to, he'd probably gladly stay with you."

"No! You won't let him, will you… Gordon?"

"You don't want Scott?" Gordon couldn't understand this attitude.

"Can't you stay with me?" Virgil asked plaintively.

"Me?"

Virgil nodded.

"But I'm your co-pilot…" Gordon started to say, then something clicked in his brain. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't, huh. Even if you think you don't know me that well. Okay. I don't mind. In the meantime we'd better start on the doctor's prescription. What can I tell you?"

"Who am I?" Virgil asked anxiously. "You say my first name's Virgil, but what's my last name?"

"Tracy."

"Tracy?"

"Yes. Your name is Virgil Tracy."

"Why couldn't you tell me before?"

"Because you belong to… we belong to… you, Scott and I belong to International Rescue…"

"International Rescue? What's that?"

"We're an organisation that rescues people. If anyone is in danger, anywhere in the world, we can usually rescue them. But our equipment is top-secret. If some bad guy got his hands on it he could cause a lot of harm to a lot of people. So we don't tell people who we are and where we live."

"Where do we live?"

"On Tracy Island, in the South Pacific Ocean."

"**Tracy** Island?" Virgil recognised the name.

"Yep. There's Scott, John, you, me and Alan. We're International Rescue. Our father is International Rescue's Commander."

"**Our** father?"

Gordon nodded. "That's right, Virgil. I'm your brother."

"You're my…" the realisation appeared to hit Virgil hard.

"Are you okay?" Gordon asked worriedly.

Virgil was staring at him as if he were something from out of space. "My brother?"

* * *

Just under an hour had passed. 

A light flashed simultaneously with a buzzer.

"There's the doorbell," Gordon said cheerfully. "I'd better go put the welcome mat out." He hesitated. "Will you be okay here alone for a couple of minutes?"

Virgil nodded slowly.

"I won't be long," Gordon promised. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes."

Gordon met Alan just inside the access way to Thunderbird Two. "Where's Scott?"

"Packing up Mobile Control. He wants to be able to check up on Virgil and then head straight home... How is Virgil?"

Gordon shook his head. "No change. He knows more than he did before, but only because I've been yammering away for the last hour."

"What have you told him?"

"Oh, about the family. A bit of our background. His education. International Rescue. I was going to start telling him about some of our rescues on the way home…"

Alan nodded.

"I've also told him that your hobbies are flower arranging and tapestry work, and that Scott is a homicidal maniac that we let out for good behaviour."

"Gordon! You didn't!" Alan was annoyed. "This is serious. You realise he'll probably believe you!"

"Of course I didn't," Gordon said in irritation. "It was a joke! Credit me with more sense than that, Alan." He turned angrily on his younger brother. "Do you know how hard this last hour has been? I've been rabbiting on about our family and his life to someone who should know more about it than I do! I've had to tell him about things that he already knows! I've had to repeat that he's got four brothers and that you and I are the youngest at least 10 times!"

"Oh," Alan said abashedly. "Sorry."

Gordon sighed in regret. "It's okay, Alan. Sorry I yelled at you. I guess the shock's starting to hit me. I keep hoping it's a nightmare and I'm going to wake up soon."

They reached the door to the sick-bay. "Gordon?" Alan said slowly. "D'ya think we could swing it that you'll fly Thunderbird Two and I'll take One home?"

"Why?"

"Because that was not one of Scott's better flights. I think he'd be happier sitting here with Virgil."

"He might be, but I don't know that Virgil would. I promised him that I'd make you fly Two and I'd stay with him."

"And he agreed to that?"

"Yeah. Frightening isn't it. Not like the Virgil we know."

"Sounds like even Virgil doesn't know the Virgil we know," Alan said sombrely.

"Do you think Scott will be okay flying Thunderbird One?" Gordon asked in concern.

"I would think so; he's just got other things on his mind. You know Dad was all set to come back with us? He would've if Scott had stayed on the dirt long enough. I barely had enough time to board myself." Alan looked in askance at the door. "Do you think it's wise for me to see him now? Maybe it'd be better if I waited until we got home."

"Don't you want to see him?"

"I don't want to see him like this."

"Alan," Gordon said sympathetically. "You're going to have to face this now. Maybe it'll be the catalyst he'll need to come around. If you waitm, he'll be facing you along with most of our family. He's frightened enough as it is; don't force him to meet a whole group of people he doesn't even remember."

"I don't think I ever remember seeing Virgil frightened," Alan said quietly.

"Me neither. But he is now. And I've left him alone too long. Are you coming?"

"I guess I've got no choice, have I?"

"Sorry, Alan. I think it'll be for the best. Are you ready?" Gordon asked.

"Can you ever be ready to be re-introduced to your brother?" Alan replied.

"I would doubt it," Gordon told him. "Come on."

The door to the sickbay slid back.

Gordon plastered a smile onto his face and re-entered the room. "How's it going, Virgil?" He looked back to where his other brother was hesitating in the hallway. "Come on!" he mouthed.

Alan took a deep breath to steady his nerves and forced himself into the room. "Hiya, Virgil." He stopped just inside the door.

Gordon grabbed Alan by the sleeve, pulling him closer to the cot. "Do you know who this is?"

Virgil looked at Alan, frowned, and shook his head.

Alan felt as if his stomach had dropped through the floor of Thunderbird Two. "I'm Alan."

"A-Alan?"

"That's right," Gordon nodded helpfully. "Remember I told you about Alan."

"He's the youngest?"

"That's right," Gordon said reassuringly. "What else can you remember?"

"He's going to fly us home?"

"That's right, Virgil," Alan nodded vigorously. Too vigorously. "Once Scott's been in to see you again, we'll head home and you can see the rest of the family."

"Scott." And both his brothers caught a hint of dismay in Virgil's voice.

As if on cue, Scott entered the room. "Any change?"

"No," Gordon replied.

Scott leant on the end of the bed. "How're you feeling, Virgil?"

"Okay," Virgil said uneasily.

"We were telling him that we'd head home once you'd seen him," Alan gabbled. "He knows I'm going to fly Thunderbird Two and Gordon's going to sit with him."

Scott frowned. He looked at Virgil in concern. He could see the fear in his eyes. He came to a decision. "Alan. How about you flying Thunderbird One, and Gordon can take Thunderbird Two. I'll stay here with Virgil."

Alan and Gordon glanced at each other uneasily. Virgil tensed up. 

"Ah, we were discussing that," Gordon began.

"And we don't think it's a good idea," Alan added quickly.

Scott redirected his frown to the two youngest. "Why?"

"Um… ah…" Alan stuttered.

"You're a better pilot than Alan," Gordon began.

Eager to make as little fuss as possible, Alan agreed.

"You'll get more speed out of Thunderbird One," Gordon continued on. "You'll get home ages before we do, and you can explain the situation to everyone. You know more about it than Alan does."

"Yes! That's right!" Alan was nodding vigorously again.

"And you can take Virgil's medical notes. It'll give Brains plenty of time to examine them before he sees Virgil." Gordon held out the slim folder to Scott.

Scott looked at him curiously, before taking the folder. "Well… I guess that makes sense… Are you okay with this, Virgil?"

Virgil relaxed and managed a small nod.

"Okay…" Scott made a reluctant move to the door. "I guess we'd better get cracking… Can I do anything before I leave?"

Gordon sensed Virgil tense up again. "No, everything's fine, Scott. Get going and we'll see you at home."

"Okay," Scott repeated. He hesitated at the door. "You'll be okay, Virgil. Alan's a good pilot and Gordon will take care of you." He smiled an uncertain smile and left.

Eager to escape, Alan followed him closely. "We'll be taking off in five minutes," he called over his shoulder.

Gordon started storing things away in preparation for the flight. Then he began to strap Virgil into the cot.

"What are you doing?"

Gordon stopped and looked at Virgil. "Putting your safety harness on."

"Is that necessary? Isn't he… Alan? Isn't he any good?"

Gordon grinned. "That sounds more like the Virgil we know and love. You're never happy letting anyone else fly your plane. Alan's a good pilot. You're in safe hands." He double-checked Virgil's harness, before sitting in a neighbouring seat and doing up his own safety harness.

"Then why do we have to be strapped in?"

"Standard safety practise. Just in case there's a malfunction."

"Malfunction?"

"Relax. You've got nothing to worry about. It's a precautionary measure."

"Flight Deck to Sickbay." Virgil jumped when Alan's voice appeared out of nowhere.

Gordon patted him reassuringly on the arm. "Go ahead, Alan."

"Are you ready for lift-off?"

"We're ready down here."

"Okay. I'm requesting clearance and then we're heading home."

Gordon kept on talking to Virgil during the launch. Trying to keep him calm. He could see that his brother was becoming more and more jumpy. He started telling him about International Rescue's first rescue…

"Gordon?"

"Yeah, Virgil?"

"Would you mind if you didn't tell me anything else new at the moment? My head hurts."

Gordon undid his own safety harness and shifted his position so he was sitting on the edge of Virgil's bed. "Sure. Not a problem. I'll stay here, and if you have any questions you can ask me. Okay?"

"Okay." Virgil closed his eyes. He lay still, trying to pretend that he was sleeping. Sleep! How could he sleep when his mind was whirling with so many unanswered questions and facts that seemed to merge into one another, none of them really making any sense?

At least his headache had nearly gone.

Who were these people? Three of them said they knew him. The woman had seemed to be nice, but hadn't appeared to know him at all.

Who were the men? His brothers? 

Gordon: Virgil decided that he quite liked Gordon. He had an easy smile that Virgil found comforting. He was friendly and reassuring with an air that eventually everything would be okay. He felt he could trust Gordon.

Alan: Seemed to be little more than a teenager, though Virgil supposed he must be older than that. Had Gordon mentioned an age? Virgil thought so, but couldn't remember. Alan had seemed to be almost frightened, an emotion Virgil could currently relate to very well. Once the young man ceased to be frightened, perhaps he could like Alan.

Scott: He wasn't sure about Scott. Obviously the oldest, with a domineering attitude. Officious was the word to describe Scott. A bit too fond of ordering his brothers about for Virgil's liking…

Brothers? These were his brothers? And wasn't there another?

And they were all part of some secret organisation… Virgil didn't like the sound of this. Why the secrecy? Because some 'bad guys' might get hold of their equipment? What was so special about a few planes…?

Gordon sat there in silence, a worried frown on his face. He hadn't enjoyed this last hour. He hadn't enjoyed it one bit! How would the rest of his family react? Alan had possibly given an indication. Uncertainty coupled with a certain amount of fear.

If Virgil's condition wasn't temporary, then this was going to place a large strain on all the family. Gordon looked at his brother, who appeared to be trying to sleep. Never mind the family, what was it like for Virgil? What was it like to suddenly realise that you had no idea who you were and who the people were around you? What did it feel like to be told that you had a large family that you had absolutely no recollection of? How did it feel to be told that you were part of a secret organisation, and that no one knew precisely what had happened to you to make you lose your memory?

Gordon's musings were halted when Virgil opened his eyes.

"Gordon?"

"Yes?"

"What did you mean by 'my plane'?"

"Huh?" Gordon scratched his head as he tried to recall previous conversations.

"You said that I wasn't happy letting someone else fly my plane."

"Oh!" Gordon understood. "I guess, technically speaking, none of the Thunderbird craft belongs to any one individual. But each of us Tracy boys has a particular craft that we're in charge of and we've come to think of that craft as being our own. For instance, mine is Thunderbird Four."

"Thunderbird Four," Virgil frowned in thought. "Was that the space ship?"

"No, that's Thunderbird Three. That's Alan's."

"The transporter?"

"No, that's this one. Thunderbird Two. Thunderbird Four is the submarine. Thunderbird Two carries it in its pod. I'm an aquanaut."

"Aquanaut," Virgil tried the word out.

"Yep. You and Scott are pilots. John and Alan are astronauts. And Scott helps co-pilot Thunderbird Three."

"Scott," Virgil repeated. "He's… bossy isn't he?"

Gordon laughed. "He can be. But that's his job when we're on a rescue. He's the Rescue Co-ordinator. If he sounded a little terse it's because he's had a tough couple of days with this last rescue."

Virgil didn't look convinced.

"Trust me. Right now Scott's worried sick about you… We all are."

Virgil shifted uncomfortably. "Am I going to get my memory back?"

"I don't know. We don't know what's wrong. We don't know how far you fell, or how hard. The field hospital didn't have the right equipment to do a proper examination. Once we get home Brains'll check you over."

"Brains," Virgil frowned in thought again. "He's the engineer?"

"Bingo. Give the man a prize!" Gordon said gleefully.

"Then why's he going to 'check me over'?"

"He's got a medical degree as well. There's not much he doesn't know about."

"Do you think he can fix this?" Virgil tapped his head.

Gordon hesitated before answering. "I don't know, Virgil. This is something new to all of us. I don't know if he'll have the answers." Then he gave a reassuring smile. "But you can rest assured that he's not going to be happy until he finds one. If Brains can't fix you, no one can." Gordon sounded confident, but for once in his life he did not have complete faith in Brains' abilities."


	3. Three

**Three**

Scott Tracy sat at the controls of Thunderbird One. His body was on automatic pilot as his brain tried to make sense of what had happened back at the disaster zone.What had happened to Virgil? What had caused his amnesia? And, more importantly, what was the cure?

Scott had had a quick flick through Virgil's medical file that they'd been given by Doctor Kershaw. He knew her name as it was lettered neatly at the beginning of the document. There wasn't a lot else that the papers had told him. No visible sign of any major injuries. Vital signs were normal. Everything was normal…

Everything except this inexplicable memory loss.

Another thing was worrying Scott. The way his brother had looked at him back in Thunderbird Two. Scott wasn't sure what that expression was, but he knew one thing…

Virgil wasn't happy to see him.

Gordon and Alan seemed to have a better idea of what Virgil was feeling. They'd talked glibly and they'd talked fast. They'd talked him out of staying with Virgil. 

Why?

They must have known that he'd willingly relinquish control of Thunderbird One in order to sit with his injured brother. It was a family joke how close the pair of them were. Someone was always commenting on the almost telepathic bond the pair of them  
had. 

Scott didn't know about telepathy, but he did know that he knew Virgil better than any of his other brothers. And now Virgil didn't know him at all. He didn't know himself either.

The thought sent a cold shiver down Scott's spine.

A proximity alarm told him he was nearing Tracy Island. In no time he'd reduced speed, rotated the rocket plane to the vertical and slid her home under the swimming pool. He took his time prepping Thunderbird One for her next flight though, unwilling to face his family and explain to them how little he knew.

It was going to seem an age before Thunderbird Two would arrive home.

* * *

As the peak of Tracy Island filled the cockpit windows of Thunderbird Two, Alan could see the Tracy Villa. Figures were standing on the patio watching him come into land. He counted five people before the scene slipped out of view behind the cliff face. 

He'd taken extra care on this flight. Like his brothers, he knew how to pilot each machine in International Rescue's fleet, but he didn't have the experience in Thunderbird Two that he did in his own Thunderbird Three. While not unfamiliar, the placement of the controls of this plane were not as ingrained into his brain as those of the spaceship.

Despite the care he'd taken he'd still occasionally found himself losing concentration as he'd thought about his brother in the sickbay behind him.

Amnesia! That couldn't be right, could it? Virgil had amnesia?

Then Alan would remember the blank look that Virgil had given him. The look of absolute fear as his brother had realised that here was another stranger… One that he'd been told he should know.

Alan shook himself. He'd lost concentration again. This wasn't the time to do that, ten metres above the ground. He pushed his worries into the background and safely bought Thunderbird Two down to Earth. Following the laser guidance system he reversed the great plane back into her hangar.

The door to the hangar slid shut, hiding away its precious treasure. Alan turned on the intercom microphone. "We're here." 

In the sickbay Gordon and Virgil heard the announcement. Gordon undid his safety harness and stood up. "There you are. That wasn't too bad was it?" He started unbuckling Virgil's harness. "Here, sit up… take it slowly." Virgil complied.

"You're shaking! Are you cold?"

Virgil shook his head. No he wasn't cold. He felt sick.

Sick with fear.

Gordon sat back down in his seat so that he was at Virgil's eye level. "We'll take our time, okay. We won't leave until you're feeling ready. I've got plenty of time, there's no rush."

"Thank you," Virgil managed to say.

"Just remember that everyone here is your friend. There's only ten people on the island. We all want to help you."

Virgil nodded an acknowledgement.

"Do you want to ask any questions?"

"No."

"Can you remember everyone's names?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry. You'll soon be able to put names to the faces. And with any luck, seeing everyone will bring your memory back."

The thought bought a hopeful gleam to Virgil's eye.

There was a knock on the door and Virgil appeared to shrink visibly.

Gordon suddenly felt annoyed. He was trying to take things slowly and let Virgil proceed at his own pace. Probably Alan had got impatient that they hadn't left the sickbay yet. "Hang on," he said. "I'll go see who that is."

Virgil rubbed his sweating palms on the blanket that he wore about his shoulders and listened anxiously as Gordon answered the door.

"Oh!" Gordon sounded surprised. "It's you! I thought it'd be Alan."

A deeper, older voice answered. "No. I thought I should see him alone before we re-introduce him to the rest of the family." There was a pause. "Any improvement?"

"No," Gordon replied.

"How was the trip?"

"Uneventful. Do you want to come in?"

There was the sound of footsteps before the door slid shut. Gordon was the first back into view. "Virgil," he said uncertainly as an older man with greying hair and sombre eyes followed him in. "Do you know who this is?" 

Virgil looked at the stranger, who shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He saw Gordon lay a reassuring hand on the stranger's shoulder. "No."

This one word had an effect on Gordon, who swallowed hard and appeared to suddenly find the top corner of the room very interesting.

"You don't know me, Virgil?" The stranger's voice was strong, but underneath Virgil could detect a tremor of disbelief.

"No… I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault," the stranger told him. "… I'm your father."

Virgil looked at him blankly. "My father?"

Gordon nodded as Jeff replied. "That's right, Virgil. I'm your father. I'm Jeff Tracy."

"Oh." A quiet exclamation escaped Virgil's lips.

"Gordon," Jeff turned to the redhead. "Perhaps you'll give Virgil and me a few minutes alone."

Gordon glanced at Virgil before replying. "Yes, Sir," he said. "I'll only be in the corridor, Virgil," and he gave Jeff's shoulder a comforting squeeze before departing the room. Jeff sat on a seat on the far side of the room. 

Gordon escaped to the hallway and leant against the wall trying to regain a sense of equilibrium. He'd been there for about five minutes when Alan arrived. "Any change?"

"No."

"Oh, heck."

"Yes," Gordon agreed.

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing, Alan." Gordon wearily passed his hand over his face and sighed.

"How are you?" Alan asked with genuine concern.

Gordon couldn't think of a word that would adequately explain what his feelings were, so merely shrugged.

Jeff came out of the medical room. He looked a trifle pale. "It's a strange sensation isn't it, talking with someone you know intimately, but they don't know you."

"Tell me about it," Gordon agreed. "I'd better get back in there."

"Hang on, Gordon," Jeff stopped him. "I've told Virgil what we're going to do. When he's ready, you and I'll take him up straight to the infirmary. Brains can check him over first. Once he's finished his examination, if necessary, we'll introduce Virgil to the rest of the family."

Scott strode up the hallway. "You're all still here? How is he?"

"No change," Gordon said succinctly.

"Scott. Alan. Take Thunderbird Three and go and get John," Jeff ordered. "Bring him back here. Virgil should meet all his brothers."

They nodded their agreement.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll see how he's getting on." Gordon slipped back into the sickbay. Scott looked after him as if he wished he could follow.

"Get going, Son," Jeff said gently.

"Come on, Scott," Alan tugged at his brother's sleeve. "The sooner we're there, the sooner we'll be back."

"Okay, Alan," Scott agreed reluctantly. He looked back at the sickbay door longingly. "Tell him…" he started to say, and then shrugged. "Tell him we'll be back soon."

"I will, Son. Get Tin-Tin to talk you through the launch."

"F-A-B," Alan replied.

Tin-Tin met them with the inevitable, "How is he?"

They replied with the inevitable, "No change."

"We're to go get John," Alan told her.

"I know," she admitted. "Your father asked me to help with the launch."

The two men took their seats on the couch. Alan looked down at his uniform. "At least I don't have to worry about getting changed, right, Scott?" 

Scott appeared to have woken from a dream. "Huh? What's that, Alan?"

Alan gave Tin-Tin an 'oh brother!' look. "Nothing. Don't worry about it," he replied. "Send us down, Tin-Tin."

She said a soft, "F-A-B" and they slid downwards out of sight. When they reached the lounge bay in Thunderbird Three Alan stood. "Buckle up! …" 

No response.

"Scott! Are you listening?" Alan touched his brother on the shoulder.

"Uh. Sorry, Alan. I was thinking."

"He'll be okay. Can you imagine Virgil giving in to this? He'll probably have a good night's sleep and wake up as good as new. Now buckle up!"

Scott gave him a wry grin. "Yeah… You're right. Just as well someone's got his wits about him. I'll see you shortly."

It wasn't until Thunderbird Three was powering out of Earth's gravitational pull that the two brothers came together again. "Have you spoken to John?" Scott asked. 

"Yep. He's packed and waiting. He's already got Thunderbird Five switched onto automatic transmission."

"I hope we're not going to be needed for a while. Whatever happens, this is going to take the family some time to get over."

Alan agreed. They were silent for a moment. 

"It was so weird," Scott suddenly said. "He hadn't said anything… I was starting to get worried… And then he looked at me and the first thing he said to me is, 'Who are you?' … Who are you! I've known him all his life!"

"I know, Scott," Alan said quietly.

"And he didn't know me!"

"I know," Alan repeated.

"You could have bowled me over with a feather!"

"I'll bet."

Scott bit his thumbnail reflectively. Then he looked up. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why didn't you and Gordon want me to stay with him?"

Alan pretended to check Thunderbird Three's controls as he gave himself time to think. "It wasn't that WE didn't want you to stay with him…"

"Yes?"

"I think it was more that… Gordon felt that Virgil was… more comfortable with him at that point. He'd had an hour to get to know him. How long had he 'known' you for?"

"Maybe five minutes, in total."

"See? He'd been talking with Gordon for an hour. I guess that when you suddenly don't know anyone an hour must seem like a lifetime."

"Why didn't you tell me this? Why spin me all that blarney about me being a better pilot?"

Alan sought to move off the topic somewhat. "Does that mean you think I'm better?" he gave his most engaging grin.

"No it doesn't," Scott growled. "And don't change the subject."

"We didn't want to upset Virgil and… I guess we didn't want to hurt your feelings," Alan said lamely.

"I thought you knew me better than that."

"I thought you'd be glad," Alan admitted. "I didn't want to stay, I wanted to get out of there. I didn't care if I was flying Thunderbird One or Two just as long as I didn't have to stay with Virgil in the sickbay."

Scott looked at Alan with mild disgust. "You would have left your own brother alone?"

"He wasn't alone! Gordon was willing to stay… All right I'll admit it. I didn't want to face him. I was scared of what he was like. Gordon had to pull me into the room to say hello. I was glad it was Gordon staying with him. I didn't think I could cope."

"You would have left him? I thought you had more guts than that. I would have willingly stayed! And I would've if you and Gordon hadn't conspired against me." Scott folded his arms angrily and swung around in his seat so his back was to Alan.

"Try to understand, Scott," Alan pleaded. "We did it for Virgil!"

"Yeah, right," Scott said sarcastically.

"I would have felt the same if it had've been any of you guys. You've been there all my life… to have one of you not know me…"

"Shut up, Alan," Scott said.

"Scott…"

"Shut up," Scott repeated.

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three…"

Alan was relieved to hear John's voice. "Go ahead, John."

"I've got you guys on my scanners. You've made good time."

Apart from essential conversation the docking procedure was made in almost total silence.

John noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere when he boarded and felt a surge of alarm. "What's wrong? Is there something I haven't been told?"

"I've been told more than I wanted to hear," Scott snapped. "You can co-pilot, John. I'll be on the passenger deck."

"What?" John watched his departing back open mouthed. "What's with him? Is Virgil alright?"

"He's fine. Apart from the amnesia, he's fine," Alan reassured him.

"Then what's with Scott?"

Alan felt his face burning. "I told him that Virgil didn't want him to sit with him."

"You did what!"

"Well Gordon thought that Virgil would have preferred that he stayed with him. After all he'd kinda got to know Gordon. He didn't have that long with Scott."

"Is that what's upset Scott?"

"That… and I told him that I was relieved that I didn't have to stay with Virgil on the flight home," Alan said shamefully.

John rolled his eyes. "And you're surprised Scott's annoyed with you."

"Tell me, John. Are you happy about your upcoming reunion?"

"With Virgil?"

"Yes."

John thought for a moment. "I can't say I'm looking forward to it. I don't know what to expect."

"I didn't either. He looks like he always did, except that he's frightened. It sounds like him… Not that he said much."

"And you ran away?"

"Don't you start," Alan said testily. "I've just had the lecture from Scott."

"Well, what did you expect, Alan? You know how close those two are. Scott's thinking of Virgil. Rightly or wrongly, he thinks he could have helped. You're only thinking of yourself."

"Are you sure Scott's not doing that? Are you sure his pride isn't hurt because someone else was looking out for Virgil for a change?"

"Forget Scott and forget yourself for a moment. Think of what Virgil's going through. Try to imagine what it's like for him. I've been thinking of nothing else while waiting for you guys."

"I have been thinking about that!" Alan snapped. "I spent the entire flight home in Thunderbird Two thinking about that. And I can't begin to imagine what it's like. Why does that suddenly make me the villain? I'm trying to be honest and I'm being treated as if it's a crime!"

John held up his hand in a gesture of peace. "Okay, Alan. I'm sorry. I guess we're all on edge over what's happened. Let's get your 'bird underway then I'll go and talk to Scott."

"Right." The undocking procedure proceeded smoothly.

John took the lift down to the passenger deck. The door slid back to reveal Scott seated on the lounge couch gazing at nothing. He didn't acknowledge John's entrance.

John sat down and looked at his brother. "Hey!" he tapped Scott lightly on the leg. "Talk to me."

Scott looked at him dully. "About what."

"About what happened."

"I don't know what happened. He was fine. Maybe a bit tired, we all were, but fine. He was flying Thunderbird Two and he thought he saw something, so he went to check it out. About ¼ hour later he contacted Mobile Control. I went to answer and he said nothing. Just yelled. This awful yell."

"Was he in pain?"

"I don't think so. More like terror… or horror."

"Why?"

"I don't know. We found him unconscious near the bottom of the mudslide. He'd regained consciousness by the time we got him back to the field hospital. The doctor couldn't find anything wrong."

"How'd you discover that he had amnesia?"

"He was quiet the entire time he was conscious. Didn't say a word. Gordon and I were trying to get him to talk and then he looked at me…" Scott turned a pained expression to John, "… and asked me who I was."

"Can he remember anything?"

Scott gave a bitter laugh. "You'd better ask Gordon. I haven't been allowed near him."

"Come on, Scott. You know them better than that. They're thinking of Virgil…"

"Alan's thinking about himself."

"No he's not, not totally... I've just tried to explain to him things from your point of view, and now I'm going to explain to you Alan's... and to some extent mine." 

"Yours!"

"Think about it, Scott. None of us have come across anything like this before. If he'd been injured we'd be able to deal with it. There'd be something we could focus on. If he had amnesia due to a head injury, we'd concentrate on the fact that once the head injury was healed, he'd be okay. Heck, if he was dying, I'd be sitting here feeling utterly miserable, and trying to think of everything that I wanted to say to him before he went. But this is different. You've told me that there is nothing physically wrong with him and yet we know that there is something wrong fundamentally. And we don't know what is causing it. And I don't know how to deal with it."

"You face up to it!"

"When you're slapped in the face maybe. Like him looking you in the eye and asking who you were. For me, I've had hours of sitting there alone, thinking and wondering and working myself up into a lather over it."

Scott managed a chuckle. "John, I can't imagine you getting worked up into a lather over anything."

"We'll I've come pretty close this time. Now tell me what the real problem is."

Scott tried to look confused. "The real problem?"

"Yeah. The real problem. You wouldn't normally get so het up over Alan's scaredy cat admissions. You'd support him and try to talk him round. So what's the problem?"

"You'll think I'm being stupid."

"Let me make the decision on that."

Scott sighed, folded his arms, unfolded them, crossed and uncrossed his legs.

John waited patiently.

"I think… I'm sure that Virgil didn't want me to stay with him. That he didn't like me."

"What? Didn't the Sundance Kid want to play with Butch Cassidy?"

John was pleased to see Scott smile a goofy grin. He and Virgil had gone through a stint of always playing cowboys when they were kids and their father had given them that nickname. For a while it had stuck. Occasionally John had been roped into their game, literally, as they would tie him to a tree. John never complained about the treatment as long as they left his arms free to turn the pages of the book he would inevitably be reading.

He continued to try to boost Scott's spirits. "How can you be sure that he didn't like you? He didn't have long enough to 'get to know you' again."

"He gave me a look that said 'Oh no. Not you'. And then he relaxed when I agreed to fly Thunderbird One home."

"A look."

"Yes."

"You're getting upset over a look?"

"Come on, John. I know Virgil…"

"Yeah, and he doesn't know you, or himself, at the moment… When did you last get some sleep?"

"Uh, before we left on the rescue. We were woken up just before midnight."

"Right. That's getting close to 48 hours ago. And, apart from when he was unconscious, Virgil would be the same?"

"Well… yes."

"Okay. So you're tired. Virgil's tired. You're worried. He's frightened. Neither of you are thinking straight. Once you've both had a good sleep, maybe he'll be okay. If not you'll both be able to start afresh. So stop worrying about it for now."

Scott thought about what John had said for a moment. "Yeah," he eventually said. "Yeah, you're right, John. I'm worrying over nothing… Well not the important things."

"That's the story." John looked at his watch. "Look we must be nearly home. Why don't you join us up on the flight deck? You can pass the remainder of the time upsetting Alan by breathing down his neck and checking he's doing everything properly."

"Okay." Scott stood, stretched, and followed John over to the lift. "You know. That's got to be one of the strangest sensations I've ever experienced. To suddenly realise that he didn't know me from a bar of soap!"

"Well, try to remember not to have a shower with him. Come on, Butch."

Scott chuckled. "I thought you were the one getting into a lather."

Alan was surprised to see them both emerge from the passenger lift. "I was just about to page you."

"Saved you the effort then, didn't we?" John said easily.

"Alan," Scott began awkwardly. "I'm sorry… about before. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I guess we're both in shock over what's happened."

"Uh. Oh. That's okay, Scott. I understand," Alan stammered.

"Do you want to co-pilot?" John asked Scott.

"No. I'll sit over here and watch you both. You two get in some practise together." Scott turned and headed to a passenger seat off to one side of the deck.

Feeling relieved Alan mouthed 'thanks' to John.

John replied with a grin and a wink.


	4. Four

** Four**

Jeff and Gordon still sat in Thunderbird Two's medical bay with Virgil. Gordon marvelled at the way his father seemed to know instinctively the best way to handle the situation. Jeff was seated as far away from Virgil as was possible in the small cabin and had spent most of the time talking to him gently. Letting Virgil ask questions, when necessary, and gradually allowing him to relax and become more comfortable in his presence.

Eventually Jeff decided that things were proceeding well enough that it was time that they made a move. "Are you ready to go up to the house, Virgil?" he asked quietly.

Virgil hesitated and then reluctantly nodded. He eased himself off the bed as Gordon and Jeff stood. Gordon moved to Virgil's side and Jeff opened the door.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Jeff said. "We won't meet anyone on the way. We'll go the back way straight to the infirmary."

"Come on," Gordon said. "I'll stay with you."

"Thank you," Virgil replied.

Jeff pressed a button on his watch to tell Brains that they were on their way and to warn everyone else to keep clear.

Virgil held his blanket closely about him as they walked from Thunderbird Two to the nearby lift. Jeff and Gordon noticed that he didn't look back to see the craft that had brought him home.

The ride upwards in the lift was swift. No one said anything. The car stopped and the doors slid open. They were greeted with a white, sterile room. Jeff stepped in quickly to show there was nothing to fear. Virgil and Gordon were more circumspect. 

"Why don't you sit over there, on the bed, Virgil?" Jeff suggested. "I'll go see where Brains has got to."

Gordon pulled up a seat so it was next to the bed and sat down.

"What's he going to do?" Virgil asked.

"I don't know…" Gordon started to say when the door slid back.

Instead of Jeff or Brains it was an elderly lady who bustled into the room. "Virgil! I've been so worried! Are you all right?" She strode straight up to him and cupped his face in her own two wrinkled hands. "You remember your old Grandma don't you, Darling?"

Unable to move away, Virgil had no option but to look into the kindly, careworn face. Then, ever so slightly, he leant backwards so that she was no longer touching him.

Her face fell as she realised her mistake. She dropped her hands so they were constrained by her apron pockets. "Oh, Virgil. I'm sorry. I… I should have realised."

"This is our grandmother," Gordon supplied helpfully. "Remember I told you about Grandma."

"H-Hello," Virgil said uncertainly.

"Oh…" and Gordon was surprised to see tears well up in his grandmother's eyes. Before he had a chance to speak, she started babbling. "Oh look at me standing here. You boys must be starving. You won't have had a decent meal since before you left for the rescue, and that was days ago. I've got something cooking on the stove and I can't let it burn. It's your favourite, Virgil, and I'd hate to see it ruined. I'd better go and see to it now. I know Kyrano will keep an eye on it, but there's some things that it'd be better if I did them myself. He's a good man Kyrano. You'll like him, Virgil. I'd… Excuse me." She turned and fled, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket as she did so.

Virgil looked at Gordon. "I've upset her," he said sadly.

"It's not your fault."

"No. But I'm the cause."

Once again the door slid open. This time a bespectacled young man dressed in a lab coat entered. "Gordon," he acknowledged. "V-Virgil."

"This is Brains," Gordon told Virgil. "I know he looks like Doctor Frankenstein, but don't worry, he's harmless."

The idea of being similar to the fictional scientist tickled Brains' funny bone and he started giggling.

Virgil decided that Brains wasn't a threat and relaxed somewhat. "You look nothing like Doctor Frankenstein," he told Brains. "At least… what I think I remember Doctor Frankenstein looked like."

"Ah," Brains said in interest. "S-So the amnesia isn't total."

Virgil shook his head. "I can remember some things. But nothing important."

Brains sat on a chair at the end of the bed.

Gordon decided that things were progressing smoothly. "I'll go," he offered and stood to leave.

"Don't go!" Virgil grabbed him. "Don't leave me! Please!"

Gordon looked at him. Whereas a moment ago Virgil had seemed to be quite relaxed, now he'd suddenly tensed up again. The fear in his eyes had returned.

Gordon glanced at Brains.

The little scientist seemed quite unperturbed by Virgil's sudden emotional change. "Th-That'll be quite in order, Gordon."

"Okay. I don't mind." Gordon sat down again and once again Virgil relaxed.

"What happened to you?" Brains asked.

"I don't know," Virgil admitted. "The first thing I remember is lying on the ground and Gordon talking to me."

"Uh, huh," Brains said non-committedly. "When did you, ah, realise that you couldn't r-remember anything?"

Virgil thought. "Things were pretty confused at first. Then I realised that this guy," he indicated Gordon, "appeared to know me. But I didn't have a clue who he was. Then I realised that I didn't know who I was either."

"Why didn't you say something?" Gordon asked.

"I was hoping it was temporary."

"What c-can't you remember?" Brains enquired mildly.

"Who I am. Anything about my life. I don't know any of these people that Gordon tells me are my family. I don't remember… what did you say it was called, Gordon?"

"What?"

"The organisation."

"International Rescue?"

"Yeah. I don't remember anything to do with International Rescue. Gordon tells me I'm a pilot. That I fly a Lightning…"

"Thunder," Gordon supplied.

"Thunderbird. Thunderbird Two wasn't it, Gordon?"

"That's right."

"And you're the aquanaut and your craft is Thunderbird Four."

"Yep."

Virgil turned back to Brains. "And you're the engineer, but you've got a medical degree."

Brains nodded. "Th-That's right. Did you remember that or is it what G-Gordon told you."

"Gordon told me."

"Do you remember a-anything of your life?"

"Only what Gordon told me."

Brains looked at Gordon.

"I've been busy," Gordon explained.

There was a knock at the door.

"C-Come in," Brains called.

The door slid back and Jeff entered, pushing a covered trolley in front of him.

"Ah, g-good." Brains took the trolley off him. "Th-Thank you, Mr Tracy."

Jeff turned to leave.

"Hang on, Dad." Quickly, before Virgil had a chance to grab him again, Gordon dashed over to his father. "Have you seen Grandma?" he asked quietly.

"Not since before you arrived."

"She came in here. She thinks she made a mistake doing that. She was quite upset, Dad. I think you should check how she is."

"Okay, Gordon. Thanks. I'll give her a couple of minutes to compose herself and then I'll go and see her."

"M-Mr Tracy?"

"Yes, Brains."

"Would you care to stay?"

"I don't know? Would you mind, Virgil?"

Virgil shook his head.

Brains indicated the trolley. "I've asked your father," Virgil glanced at Jeff as if to confirm that this was the man they were talking about, "to get together some o-objects. I'd like you to tell me if you know what th-they are."

Virgil nodded his understanding.

Brains lifted the cloth on the trolley and removed an object. He handed it to Virgil who took it and examined it closely. "It's made of metal isn't it?"

"Th-that's right," Brains confirmed.

Virgil carefully felt the four tines. They were pointed but not too sharp. The other end was flattened. He shook his head. "No. I don't know. What is it?"

Gordon stared at his brother in alarm.

Brains continued on as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary. "It's a fork. Do you know what you use it for?"

"No. I guess you hold the flattened end and stab or scrape with the prongs."

"Y-You can do that. It's an i-implement for eating."

"Oh," Virgil looked at the fork sadly. "I should have known that shouldn't I."

Brains didn't answer the question, instead handing over another object.

"A stapler!" Virgil said delightedly. "I'm right aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," Brains acknowledged. "Wh-What about this?"

"A paperweight?"

"Uh-huh," Brains agreed.

The alarm clock, envelope and wallet were all identified. Virgil was looking marginally more cheerful...Then Brains held out a book. 

Virgil frowned in confusion as he took it. Carefully he opened it and examined the pages. He looked up. "No. I don't know this one."

"It's a book."

"A book," Virgil repeated. "What does it do?"

"Do you know what the m-marks are inside?" Brains asked.

"Marks? What marks?"

"These black squiggle things," Gordon pointed out the words on a page.

"No. What are they supposed to be?"

Gordon looked at his father who was leaning against a bench. The latter's face was unemotional. "You can't recognise them?"

"I'm sure I should, but no. What are they?" Virgil was starting to sound a trifle aggrieved.

"You can't recognise words… letters?" Gordon's voice had raised an octave in pitch.

"No!" Virgil slammed the book shut angrily. "What are they?"

"I-It's a method of communication, Virgil," Brains said quietly. "We'll explain th-them more fully later." He glared at Gordon, clearly telling him to calm down.

"I'm, ah, sorry, Virgil," Gordon stammered. "I wasn't expecting that."

"I'm not expecting any of this!" Virgil snapped. Then he sighed and tried to get his emotions under control. "What's next?"

Brains took out a wooden box. It's exterior was covered in different coloured splotches and smudges.

Gordon glanced at his father whose face was still expressionless.

Virgil took the box. "Someone's made a mess of this." He examined it, not giving the initials 'V.T.' in gold a second glance. "Can I open it?"

"O-Of course."

Virgil struggled with the catch for a moment. "This isn't meant to be opened easily." The catch gave way to his ministrations and he lifted the lid. Inside, laid neatly side-by-side, were a number of tubes, some nearly new, some clearly well used. He lifted a couple out. "Each of these have different coloured labels," he commented, before wrinkling up his nose. "Smells funny."

"That's linseed oil," Brains supplied.

"Do you know what these tubes are?" Gordon asked.

"No. What?"

"Paint." Gordon looked back towards where his father was standing.

Jeff had gone.

* * *

He knocked on the door. He heard a scuffling sound from inside and then an unsteady voice called "Come in." 

Jeff slid back the door.

Inside her room his mother was bustling about with a duster. "Oh, it's you, Jeff. I'm busy. I thought it was high time I cleaned my room." She concentrated on a set of shelves so that her back was to him. "I spend so much time looking after the rest of the house, that I never get the chance to look at this place. It's filthy!"

"You could eat off any surface in here," he reprimanded her gently. "Gordon told me you saw Virgil."

Slowly she turned and he saw that her eyes were red. "I made a mistake, didn't I?"

His heart went out to her. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I couldn't believe that he wouldn't remember me. I-I felt so sure that he'd see me and remember..." She sniffed.

"He's having trouble remembering a lot of things at the moment."

"I touched him. It was only a touch…" automatically Mrs Tracy demonstrated the gesture in the air.

"And?"

"And he pulled away. He pulled away from me. Oh, Jeff…"

"Come here," he said and drew her into a hug. "It's okay, Ma. You didn't do anything wrong. You've probably made it better."

"Better? How can this be better?"

"Because now there's one less person Virgil's got to be introduced to. Instead of four people at once it's only three…"

* * *

Brains had exhausted his supply of objects. He noted a few comments on a clipboard. 

Gordon watched him. Virgil plucked nervously at his blanket.

"Any ideas, Brains?" Gordon asked.

"N-Not yet." Brains put the clipboard to one side and took a box off a bench top.

Virgil looked depressed until he saw what Brains had taken out of the box. "What's that?"

Brains was holding a contraption that appeared to be a mess of wires, electrodes and other villainous looking bits. He plugged one end into a large box.

"That always gives me a bit of turn too," Gordon said mildly.

"You're not using that thing on me!" Virgil was off the bed and edging towards the door.

"Whoa! It's okay, Virgil. It doesn't hurt. It looks pretty terrible, but I guarantee there's no needles or knives or anything disgusting involved," Gordon impeded his progress. "I told you that Brains won't hurt you. I'll make you a promise. If he hurts you, I'll hurt him."

Virgil looked at Gordon uncertainly. "You mean that?"

Gordon looked him in the eye. "I mean it."

"Okay…" With some reluctance Virgil returned to the bed.

Brains sat in his seat again, still holding the contraption. "This is one of m-my own inventions, Virgil. I-It's scans brain activity. I-I already have a record of your n-normal brain waves. I want to see if th-there's any change. If there is then I've got a ch-chance of working out what's wrong."

"What do I have to do?" Virgil asked warily.

"I-It sits on your head. Y-You don't have to do anything," Brains told him.

"Want me to wear it first?" Gordon asked brightly.

Uneasy, Virgil nodded.

"Very well," Brains placed the contraption on Gordon's head.

"I've been crowned," Gordon told Virgil. "You should bow before me."

Brains flicked a switch. The attached box started whirring and lights flashed on and off.

"Well? Are you detecting any signs of life?" Gordon asked.

Brains giggled. "J-Just."

"Nice," Gordon said in mock disgust. "You try to help and you get insulted." He turned to his brother, the connecting cable nearly tangling with the legs of his chair. "See? Nothing to it."

Brains switched off the machine and removed the scanner from Gordon. "Are you r-ready, Virgil?"

Virgil didn't look too sure. "I guess so."

The procedure passed painlessly. Brains compared Virgil's original test with the new one. He frowned.

"Well?" Gordon asked in impatience.

"Th-There's no difference."

"What does that mean?" Gordon asked.

"I-I'll have to think about that. I-In the meantime I've several other non-invasive scans I want to carry out, Virgil…"

Brains had performed every test he could think of. With a sigh he shut down the last piece of equipment. Neither Virgil nor Gordon asked him if he'd discovered anything useful. The expression on his face said it all. 

"Now what?" Gordon asked.

"N-Now we wait," Brains said. "Maybe the amnesia will c-cure itself overnight. If it doesn't, I'll keep on researching p-possible cures."

Virgil pulled his blanket closer about him and rocked gently back and forth. Gordon gave him what he hoped was a reassuring rub on the back. "Now what?" he repeated. 

Brains faced Virgil. "Now we introduce you to the r-rest of your family."

Virgil looked at Brains and tried to suppress the feeling of fear that threatened to burst out of him. "Do I have to?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"John'll be disappointed that you don't want to see him," Gordon said equally quietly. "He's left Thunderbird Five especially to see you. And you like Kyrano and Tin-Tin. They're not, strictly speaking, family, but they are good friends. As near to family as you can get. Once you've seen them you've seen everybody and then it won't seem so frightening."

Virgil sat motionless.

"Okay?" Gordon asked.

Virgil nodded slowly.

"That's good. We can get it over and done with," Gordon said with a cheerful grin. He stood and Virgil slowly followed suit.

"I'll go ahead and let e-everyone know you're coming," Brains offered.

"'kay," Gordon acknowledged. "Coming, Virgil?"

They slowly made their way towards the door, Virgil clutching his blanket about him as if it were a shield against what he was about to face.

The lounge seemed to be a mile away. They eventually reached the entrance. Gordon gave Virgil a reassuring smile and stepped through the door first.

Virgil followed slowly. He found himself facing a sea of unfamiliar faces. He wished that the floor would open up and swallow him. Nervously he took a step backwards and found his way blocked. He spun round to apologise to the person. "Sorry…" 

"How're you feeling, Virgil?" Scott asked anxiously. "How is he, Brains?"

Virgil was feeling crowded by this man. He took a step back from Scott.Jeff grasped his eldest by the shoulders and gently eased him backwards. Scott cast him a hurt look. 

Virgil drew his blanket closer about his shoulders and turned back to face the people in the room. He realised that whereas he'd initially assumed there were at least twenty people present, there was in fact only five and a series of portraits on the walls. Brains he knew. He recognised one of the two blond men as being Alan.

The other walked towards him. "Virgil?" he said uncertainly and held out a hand in greeting. "I'm John."

Virgil shook his hand solemnly.

"And this is Tin-Tin," Gordon indicated the room's sole female occupant.

Tin-Tin gave him a timorous smile and flapped her hand at him in a gesture that was part wave, part nervous twitch.

"And this is Kyrano," Gordon completed the introductions.

Kyrano bowed low. "Mister Virgil," he said serenely.

Virgil didn't know how he should respond.

"Go in, Virgil," he heard Jeff's deep voice from behind him. "Go and have a look around." Reluctantly Virgil obeyed. 

He looked at the furnishings. His face registered no emotion as he looked at the artworks, the furniture, the piano…

"How're you feeling… now?" John asked awkwardly.

"Okay… I guess," Virgil answered quietly. His eyes fastened on the row of portraits. He took a step closer to examine them. He looked at each one in turn.

Then he turned back to his family. "Those four are of you four," he indicated his brothers.

They nodded.

"Then who's that?" an arm came out from under the blanket and pointed at the middle portrait.

There was an awkward silence.

It was Gordon who found his voice first. "That's you, Virgil."

"Me?" Virgil turned back to examine the portrait more closely. "Is that what I look like?"

No one felt able to answer him.

Virgil decided that he couldn't face looking at his own, unknown, image anymore and turned away. He spied another portrait. One of a young, blond woman, clad in pink. "Who's that?" he asked. "She's not a sister is she, Gordon?"

There was a chuckle from somewhere in the room, which was hastily silenced.

"No. That's Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward," Gordon explained. "I think I told you about her."

Virgil's brow furrowed. "She lives in… England?"

"That's right."

Virgil examined her picture a moment longer before he found himself drawn back to the row of portraits.

"Why don't you show him the Operation Cover-up ones, Father?" Scott suggested.

"Good idea, Scott," Jeff moved to his desk and activated the button that changed the photos.

Startled at the unexpected way the paintings slid away, Virgil took a step backwards. His foot got caught in his blanket and he fell over. At once eight pairs of hands reached out to assist him. 

"No!" he cringed, moving away from them. He pulled his blanket closer about him.

"Move back, everyone," Jeff ordered quietly.

Everyone complied. Everyone except Gordon, who seemed to have accepted his role as protector. He crouched down in front of his brother. "Are you okay?" 

Virgil nodded in a numb manner.

Scott crouched down at Gordon's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Virgil. I should have thought…"

Virgil pulled his legs in closer, drawing away from Scott.

"Scott." The name was said quietly, but Scott heard the admonishment in his father's voice. He stood and took two steps backwards, bumping into someone in the process.

He turned and apologised. "Sorry, John."

John gave him a look of sympathy. "You weren't kidding, were you," he said in a whisper.

Gordon was trying to convince Virgil that he wasn't under attack. "It's okay, they only want to help you."

Virgil looked up at the row of concerned faces. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Gordon told him. "Come on. Stand up."

Virgil complied.

"Dinner's ready," a voice was heard in the hall. "Where is everyone…?" her voice petered out as Grandma Tracy saw the group of people standing in the lounge.

"Thank you, Mother. We'll be there in a moment," Jeff said. He looked back at Virgil who wasn't looking happy about the new development. "You must be tired, Virgil. You and Gordon and Scott haven't had much rest over the last couple of days. Why don't you take him to his room, Gordon, I'll bring along something to eat shortly."

"I'll do…" Scott started to say and was silenced by a look from his father.

"Okay," Gordon agreed. "Come on, Virgil."

Like the parting of the Red Sea everyone moved back to allow Virgil and Gordon to pass through.

Once they were out of earshot Scott turned to his father. "I can take him his meal."

Jeff shook his head. "Not tonight, Scott. Let him get comfortable with being home first. Tomorrow, if necessary, you can show him Thunderbird Two."

"Hopefully, that won't be necessary," Alan commented.

Gordon led the way down to Virgil's bedroom. He slid the door back and stepped inside. "Maybe this place will jog a few memories!"

Hesitantly Virgil stepped inside. Nothing was familiar. Nothing brought a warm feeling of security. It all felt cold and strange.

"Nothing, huh," Gordon commented.

"No," Virgil said and jumped as the door slid shut behind him.

"Well, this is your room, so I'm not sure where you keep everything," Gordon said, "but I can point out the highlights. Tell me if I'm stating the obvious. This is your bed, your closet, your dresser… I guess you keep your pyjamas in one of these drawers. You would have left the ones you were using in Thunderbird Two." He started pulling drawers open looking for the required clothing.

Virgil had found the mirror. He stared at the reflection. It was the same as the portrait in the lounge. More tired maybe, scratched, more unkempt, and definitely more fearful than the calm features that hung on the wall, but still the same face. He felt his cheek, the bristles of the growing beard scraping his fingers, and watched as the figure in the glass mirrored his actions.

"I guess that's the biggest shock of all," Gordon said quietly.

Virgil managed a wry grin. "It's up there."

Gordon moved so he could see his own reflection. "Man I'm a mess. I think I'll skip dinner, grab a shower and head to bed myself. But first I'll show you your ensuite bathroom." He opened a door that led off the bedroom and stood back so that Virgil could walk into the room unimpeded. "Ah, I don't have to explain what's in here do I?" he asked hopefully.

Virgil shook his head. "I know what everything is. I just don't recognise the room"

"Good," Gordon mimed wiping sweat off his forehead. "I was getting ready to dash out and grab Dad. There's some things he's had more experience at than I have."

There was a knock on the door.

"I'll get that," Gordon offered.

Jeff was waiting in the hall, two plates of steaming hot food in his hands. "My hands are full, Gordon. Will you get the table?"

"Sure," Gordon ducked into the hall and reappeared carrying a card table. He placed this in the centre of the room, before ducking out again.

With a sigh of relief, Jeff placed the two plates on the table. "They were getting hot," he explained to Virgil.

"You'll need a cloth on there to protect the table," Virgil noted.

Jeff looked at him in surprise. "I've got one in the hall. Gordon! Bring in the tablecloth will you!"

Gordon re-emerged carrying two chairs on which was balanced a basket containing tablecloth, cutlery, mugs and a vacuum flask. In a short time the table was set.

"Right," Jeff grunted. "I'll leave you boys to it."

"But…" Gordon hesitated. "I thought you'd want to stay."

Jeff placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think Virgil would be more comfortable sharing this meal with you."

"If you wouldn't mind, Gordon," Virgil said. "I know you weren't planning on having anything to eat tonight…"

"No, that's okay," Gordon said hastily. "The smell of the food has made me hungry anyway."

"I'll see you boys tomorrow," Jeff smiled at Virgil before leaving.

"He seems nice," Virgil commented.

"He is…" Gordon started to say and stopped, confused by the incongruousness of the statement.

They sat down at the makeshift dinner table to start their meal…


	5. Five

** Five**

That first meal was a quiet one for the Tracy family. Everyone was engrossed in their own thoughts. Thoughts which no one felt like communicating to the others.

Scott was the first to escape the silence. Normally a big eater, tonight he found that he had little appetite.He retired to his room fully intending to turn in early. He sat on his bed and pulled off his shoes. He was surprised when there was a bang on his door, which then slid open and admitted Alan and John. Normally he would have protested at this invasion of his private sanctum, but didn't have the energy or inclination to complain. "What's up, guys?" 

Alan threw himself into a chair. "This is horrible."

John settled on the window seat. From here he'd be able to see the stars emerging. "Yeah. Like he's a stranger."

"Stranger to himself too," Scott commented, propped a couple of pillows against the wall and made himself comfortable on his bed.

They were silent for a moment.

"Did Brains find out what's causing it?" Alan asked.

"No. He couldn't find anything wrong," Scott said.

"That's the worst bit," John said reflectively.

More silence.

"D'ya think he'll find a cure?" Alan asked.

"Possibly," Scott said.

"I hope so," John added.

Silence again.

"It'll cause a shake up," Alan said.

"Uh, huh," John agreed.

Scott grunted an acknowledgement.

The silence continued.

"Will Dad send John or me back to Thunderbird Five?" Alan wondered.

"He hasn't mentioned anything," Scott said.

"I was going to ask tomorrow," John added.

Silence.

"Who'll pilot Thunderbird Two?" Alan asked.

"Alan!" Scott said in exasperation. "No one's had a chance to consider that yet."

"We'll need to be ready if we get a call out," John noted.

Scott leant back on his pillows. "I hope we don't get a call out for weeks. I haven't got the energy at the moment."

"Gordon looked pretty exhausted too," Alan pulled out a drawer and rested his feet on it.

The door slid open and the object of their discussion entered the room and flung himself unceremoniously on the foot of Scott's bed. "Is this where you guys are?"

"Hey," Scott protested without conviction. "You'll get the duvet dirty."

Gordon looked down at his uniform. "How long have I been wearing this thing? At least two days." He sniffed a sleeve and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"How's Virg?" Scott asked.

Gordon shrugged. "Pretty quiet… That's an experience I could have done without. Having to explain to him what a knife and fork were and how to use them."

"You're kidding!" Alan exclaimed.

"Nope," Gordon said tiredly. "He remembers what a bed is, and everything in the bathroom department so I cleared the dinner things away and left him to it."

"Gordon," John said reproachfully.

"Well, what else could I do? We're both exhausted and need a good night's sleep. He doesn't need me to explain that to him."

"What else can he remember?" Alan asked.

"Bits and pieces. Some of the things he remembers are pretty surprising. Like he was able to name the World President."

Alan was stunned. "What!"

"But he's got absolutely no recollection of anything to do with us, the family."

"How's he coping?" John asked.

Gordon frowned. "I dunno. Like I said, he's quiet. If he remembers something, he seems to cheer up. Then he discovers something he can't remember and he gets all depressed again. The only thing that remains constant is that he's frightened. I can see it in his eyes."

"It's a frightening thought, not knowing who you are," Scott noted.

"Yeah," Alan agreed.

"I can't imagine what it's like for him," John said.

"Me, neither," Gordon yawned. "Well, I'm going to bed." He closed his eyes. "I don't think I'll bother taking my uniform off."

"Your holster will be a bit uncomfortable," Alan noted.

"Don't care. Right I'm off…" Gordon didn't move a muscle. "I'm moving now…"

His brothers watched him lie there motionless.

"I'm walking out the door… down the hallway… turning into my room… falling into bed…"

Scott nudged him with his foot.

Gordon cracked an eye open. "How come my room looks like Scott's?"

"C'mon." Alan stood and hauled his exhausted brother to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."

"Why do we do this, Alan?" Gordon asked as he was assisted from the room.

"Do what?"

"Risk our necks to rescue people?"

"Oh, for fame, fortune, glamour, and girls."

"Oh, good. I'm glad there's a good reason."

Scott and John managed a chuckle as the door slid shut behind their two youngest brothers. John slipped into the chair that Alan had just vacated. "How are you, Scott?" 

"Me? I'm exhausted. I feel like Gordon. I don't think I'll bother getting changed. I'll just pull the sheets up and go to sleep."

"I didn't mean that. It must have been a rough rescue."

"Yeah…" Scott leant his head back so it was resting on the wall and he was gazing at the ceiling. "Apart from the obvious - it was. I hate mudslides. There were so many decisions that could have gone either way. Life or death. There's still a couple that I'm not sure that I did the right thing…"

"There were only three of you. You couldn't be everywhere at once. You all did your best, and you helped save a heck of lot of people. We've got enough problems now; don't let the past get to you."

"I know that. I know all the clichés. But I guarantee I'll still be awake tomorrow morning with endless questions spinning round and round in my head."

"You and me both," John admitted.

Scott looked at him. "How come?"

"It's always the same that first night back from, or back on, Thunderbird Five. Different sounds, smells, lights. It always takes me a night to readjust."

"I didn't know that!"

"I've learnt the hard way. Now I always make sure that I get a few naps in the day before I'm due to end my duty on Thunderbird Five… That is when I know I'm due to leave Thunderbird Five," John finished reflectively.

"This is a shocker isn't it," Scott said.

"Uh, huh," John agreed and paused. "I hate to admit it, Scott. But I think you're right. I saw how he looked at you. Virgil's not a fan of yours at the moment."

"But why? I haven't done anything to him. I haven't had the opportunity!"

"I don't know. I wish I did, like I wish I knew what had caused his amnesia in the first place. All I can suggest is that you don't rush things. If you're going to spend some time with him make sure someone else he 'trusts'…"

"You mean Gordon."

"Maybe. He also seemed pretty comfortable with Dad. Just make sure that one of those two is there at the same time. Let him know you're not a threat and that you want to help. Give him a chance to get to know you again." John stood and stretched. "You look beat. I'll let you try to get some sleep. Maybe we're worrying for nothing and he'll wake up tomorrow as if nothing's happened."

"I hope you're right."

John slid the door open. "Try not to let things worry you, Scott. If this amnesia hangs around for a while, we're all going to have to be strong enough to support each other. And that means being wide awake tomorrow."

"Yeah," Scott grabbed his bedclothes and pulled them over his body. "Night, John."

"Night, Scotty." John turned out the light. 

As he'd predicted, sleep refused to come to Scott. After several hours of tossing and turning, he gave up and decided to work off some of his nervous energy. He headed down to the gym.

After half an hour of pounding at the punch bag he gave up. His body felt ready to drop on the spot, but his mind was still wide-awake. He decided to head back to bed for the second time that night, hopeful that he might yet manage a couple of hours sleep.

The way back to his room was past his brothers' bedrooms. As he passed Virgil's a sound made him stop. He thought he heard someone cry out for help. Not bothering to knock, he slid the door open. 

Virgil was in his bed, desperately fighting against some invisible aggressor. His bedclothes were knotted up on the floor. Every now and then he'd let out a yell of fear.

"Virgil!" Scott raced to his brother's bedside. "Are you alright?" He touched Virgil gently on the arm.

With another yell Virgil awoke. He looked Scott in the eye. "Don't hurt me!"

"Virgil. It's me! It's Scott!"

"Leave me alone!" Virgil pushed away from his brother. He fell out of his bed, landing on the floor heavily.

Scott clambered across the bed. "Are you okay?"

Scott leaning over him was too much for Virgil. "Don't hurt me! Keep away," he whimpered trying to crawl away from the 'aggressor'. His desk blocked his flight.

"Virgil. I won't hurt you. Don't you recognise me?" Scott climbed off the bed so he was closer to Virgil's eye line. "It's Scott."

"Don't touch me…"

"Scott! Leave him!" A voice barked from behind them.

"I'm not…"

"Come here, Scott!" Jeff barked again.

Reluctantly Scott climbed back over the bed away from Virgil. His father, Alan and John were standing there, concern etched into their faces.

Jeff moved forward. "It's okay, Virgil. I won't hurt you," he said soothingly.

Virgil scrambled to his feet. "Don't come any closer!" he held out a hand defensively.

Jeff stopped.

"Where am I? Tell me where I am." Virgil begged. "I don't know this place."

"This is your home, Virgil," Jeff told him.

"No…! No it's not…! I don't know it… This is not my home! What's happening?"

Jeff took another step forward.

"Keep back. Don't come any closer!" Virgil grabbed a cushion and threw it at his father.

Jeff ducked the cushion and stopped walking.

Alan fled down the hallway. He barrelled into a room.

The room was in darkness. He switched on the light.

There was a snore from the bed.

"Gordon!" Alan raced up to his brother's recumbent form and tugged on his shoulder.

"Wassup…? Alan?" Gordon woke out of a deep sleep and looked at him blearily, blinking against the bright light. "Is it a rescue?"

"No!"

"Is my bed on fire?"

"No!"

"Then leave me alone. I'm sleeping." Gordon closed his eyes and nuzzled back into his pillow.

"Gordon! Virgil needs you!" Alan pulled at the bed's occupant again.

Gordon didn't open his eyes. "Then let Scott look after him. I need my sleep." He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head.

In desperation Alan threw back the covers, grabbed his recalcitrant brother by the leg and pulled him further down the bed. When that didn't have the desired result he grabbed the mattress with both hands, and tipped it so his brother rolled onto the floor.

Gordon let out a yelp as he landed on the floor in a pile of bedclothes. "Alan! What are you doing?"

"Have you got amnesia too? Virgil needs you."

Now that he was fully awake Gordon understood. "Where is he?"

"His room."

Gordon was on his feet and running down the hall. Things in Virgil's room were still at a stalemate. Virgil was desperately trying to keep his family at bay. 

Gordon slipped between his brothers. "Virgil?"

Virgil had been trying to defend himself with a book. He lowered his arm.

Slowly, Gordon started walking closer. "Virgil, it's me. It's Gordon."

"Gordon?"

"That's right. You remember me don't you?"

"Where am I, Gordon?"

"At home. This is your room. Remember I showed you last night."

"My room?"

"That's right."

"I was under attack."

Still treading softly, Gordon frowned. "Who by?"

"I – I don't know. I don't remember." Virgil allowed Gordon to gently grasp him by the arm and lead him, away from their family, over to the window seat.

"Come on, boys," Jeff said quietly. "We'll leave them to it."

Obediently John and Alan left the room. Scott hesitated a moment. He looked at his brothers, now silhouetted by the window, looked back at his father, and then shuffled out of the room. 

Gordon heard the door click shut behind the last of his family. "Look at you," he said to Virgil. "You're soaking in sweat. Go have a shower, I'll get you some clean pyjamas and then you can tell me what happened."

"Shower?" his brother asked dazedly.

"You do remember how to have a shower don't you?" Gordon was suddenly fearful that he'd overestimated Virgil's knowledge.

Virgil nodded dumbly.

The rest of the Tracys assembled in the kitchen.

"Thank heavens your Grandmother's room isn't in the main house," Jeff said. "I wouldn't have liked her to have seen that."

"Good idea, Alan," John congratulated him. "Just as well he responded to Gordon."

"I nearly couldn't get him out of bed. He was that zonked he didn't even hear Virgil and Scott yelling. I had a hang of a job trying to convince him to come and help."

"Just as well you managed it," Jeff said. He looked at his eldest. Scott was sitting at the dining table quietly. "What happened, Son?"

Scott didn't hear him.

"Scott?" Jeff pressed.

"Scotty?" John touched him on the arm.

"Huh!" Scott awoke from his reverie. "What?"

"What happened?" Jeff asked again.

"I swear I didn't touch him…! Well only once on the arm… but it was only to wake him…"

"Calm down. No one's blaming you," Jeff said reassuringly. "I'm sorry I shouted at you. I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Why'd you try to wake him?"

"I'd been in the gym," the rest of the family looked at each other at this admission. "I was heading back to bed when I heard him call out for help… Only it wasn't my help he wanted."

"Nightmare?" John asked.

"Looked like it."

"He's living a nightmare at the moment," Alan said. "It's not surprising that he's dreaming them as well…"

* * *

Virgil finished his shower and slowly dried himself with the towel that Gordon provided. When he was dressed in clean, dry pyjamas he emerged back into the bedroom. 

"How're you feeling now?" Gordon asked him.

"Okay, I guess," Virgil replied.

There was a knock on the door. Frowning at the interruption, Gordon went to the door and opened it, ready to shoo whoever was there away. 

The hall was empty.

At his feet were a mug of hot chocolate and a note. He picked them both up.

'Yours is in the kitchen,' the note read. He scrunched it up.

"Here ya are," he said to Virgil. "Nothing like a hot chocolate to calm the nerves."

"Hot chocolate? What's that?" Virgil asked.

"A drink," Gordon handed it to him. "You get that down you and I'll straighten up your bed."

"Thank you," Virgil said gratefully and wrapped his hands around the mug. "It smells nice."

"Tastes even better."

Virgil took a tentative sip. "You're right. It's a bit hot though."

"Give it a moment to cool down." Gordon got some dry sheets and quickly remade the bed. "Now I've done all the hard work," he said, "you'd better get in there."

Still clutching his drink, Virgil complied.

"Feeling better?" Gordon asked.

Virgil nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Not a problem. Do you want to talk?" Gordon settled on the end of the bed. "What happened?"

Virgil frowned in thought. "I think I had a dream."

"What about?"

Virgil's frown deepened. "I don't remember. I just remember being frightened… And then I think I woke up and… what's his name? Scott? Scott was there and I didn't recognise him. I thought he was an extension of my dream."

"The only time Scott's a nightmare is at breakfast, when he hasn't been able to get a good night's sleep and the toast's burnt," Gordon grinned.

Virgil leant back into his pillows. "I've made a fool of myself haven't I?"

"Hardly."

Virgil's eyelids were growing heavy. "Remind me to apologise to everyone tomorrow."

"You won't have to do that. This amnesia is new to all of us. You're just trying to cope with an unfamiliar situation. We're trying to cope too. None of us know what we should be doing. We're all learning at the same time… Virgil?"

Virgil was asleep.

Gordon carefully prised the mug out of his brother's hands and placed it on the bedside cabinet before pulling up a blanket and tucking it in.

"Night, Virgil," he whispered. "Pleasant dreams. Let's hope tomorrow's better." Quietly he tiptoed out of the room. 

His brothers and father looked up when he came into the dining room. "Where's my hot choc?"

"Here," John heated it for him and handed him a mug.

"Thanks," Gordon took a mouthful and sighed in contentment. "That's good."

"How is he?" Jeff asked.

"Asleep. Thinks he's made a fool of himself. I told him he didn't need to apologise, but don't be surprised if he does tomorrow." He had another drink.

"What happened," Alan asked.

"Nightmare," Gordon explained. "He can't remember what. When he woke up he thought Scott was part of it."

"Dad too," Alan said. "He attacked him."

Gordon looked alarmed. "He what?"

"Only with a cushion," Jeff reassured him.

Gordon sipped at his drink again and then rested his head on his arms on the table. "He didn't even remember what hot chocolate was."

The announcement was met with silence.

What more were they going to learn? More importantly… 

What more did Virgil need to learn?


	6. Six

** Six**

Virgil awoke the following morning and tried to remember who and where he was. With an effort he recollected what he'd been told the previous day.He lay there. He wished he'd asked Gordon what the routine for the morning was. Get dressed and then have breakfast? Or eat first and then get dressed?

He sat up and looked around the room. It was strange.

A stranger's room. Was it his?He spied the mug that had held his hot chocolate and picked it up. There was still some drink in the bottom and he sipped at it. It wasn't nearly as nice cold. He decided that whatever the routine, there were some things that couldn't wait and got out of bed and went into the ensuite. 

When he returned to the bedroom he stopped in the middle of it, looking around.

A cold feeling seemed to fill him.

He didn't belong here. None of these things were his. But where should he be? 

There was a knock on the door and it slid back to reveal Gordon holding a large bit of cloth. "Morning, Virgil," he said cheerfully. "How're you this morning?"

"'Kay, I guess," Virgil mumbled.

"Any improvement in the amnesia?" Gordon already knew the answer by the way Virgil was looking lost.

"No."

"Well don't give up hope just yet…" Then Gordon bit his lip. "Um, we've agreed not to tell Grandma about what happened last night. We don't want to worry her. Okay?"

Virgil nodded.

"Here's your dressing gown. We'd both left ours onboard Thunderbird Two, so I've just nipped down and got them. Put it on and we'll go and get some breakfast."

Slowly Virgil complied. Feeling more than a little nervous, he followed Gordon out of the room and down to the dining room. He hadn't been here before, well since his 'accident', and he stood for a moment in the doorway looking about him and trying to find anything that would make this room seem familiar. People who supposedly were his family were already seated at the table. 

"Good morning, Virgil," the man he'd been told was his father greeted him. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Okay."

"How's the memory? Any better?" the older of the two blond men… John, asked him.

"No," Virgil told him.

"Bother," John replied.

"Come and have some breakfast," Scott offered.

Virgil hesitated a moment wondering where he should sit.

"Grab a seat," Gordon said. "It's first in, first served in the mornings."

Virgil chose a seat beside Gordon. Scott gave him what he hoped was a friendly smile. 

Alan wandered in yawning. "Man! What a night!" He was shushed by Tin-Tin who had been briefed and looked guiltily first at his grandmother and then at Virgil. "How are you, Virgil?"

"Okay." Virgil repeated.

Mrs Tracy placed a plate in front of him. "There you are, Virgil. Eat up." She retreated back to the safety of the stove.

Virgil looked at the plate. He didn't recognise anything on it. He looked at the cutlery provided and cautiously selected a knife and fork. He cut into a piece of toast. Then he looked up.

Everyone was watching him.

As one they sheepishly looked back at their own plates. His face burning, he speared the toast with his fork and ate it. 

"Here, spread some butter on it with your knife," Gordon shifted the butter so it was in front of Virgil. "It'll make the toast taste better. If you scrape your eggs onto the toast it'll be better still."

"Eggs?"

It was a long breakfast for all concerned.

Virgil was glad to escape back to the bedroom. He felt as if he were a sideshow. He wished he could go somewhere where there weren't people watching him. Now he had the problem of finding some clothing so he could get dressed. He thought that maybe he'd make a start by cleaning his teeth, and having a wash and a shave. He retired to the bathroom. There was a toothbrush here, soap, and a razor, but were they his? He didn't feel that he could, or should use these objects resting serenely in their respective containers. 

They belonged to someone else.

He sat on the edge of the bath and let a feeling of hopelessness wash over him.

"Well, we made a complete hash of breakfast, didn't we," John stated. "He must have felt really uncomfortable."

Jeff agreed. "Could you make a picnic for two for lunch, Kyrano?"

Kyrano bowed low. "It would be my pleasure, Mr Tracy."

"You can have lunch with him, Gordon. Get him out of the house and away from us. He's going to have a full on morning and might appreciate the fresh air."

"Oh," Gordon said. "D'ya think I should? Wouldn't it be better if he got to know someone else, like Scott?"

Jeff vetoed the suggestion. "Once he's got through today, we'll think about doing that. I think that for today it'd be better if we don't make things too stressful for him."

"Or any more stressful," Alan added.

* * *

Scott hesitated outside Virgil's room. Then he steeled himself and knocked on the door. There was no reply. He knocked again with more force. 

When there was no response he slid the door open and took a step inside. "Virg…? Are you in here, Virgil?"

He had to wait a moment before Virgil emerged from the ensuite. He looked as if he were trying to pull himself together.

"Ah, um," Scott stammered. "Sorry I came in unannounced… I did knock, but I guess you didn't hear me."

Virgil eyed him uncertainly.

Scott thrust a box out at him. "I got you some things from the storeroom. I thought you might like some new stuff to use."

Virgil hesitated briefly and then took the box.

"I promise it won't bite," Scott told him.

Gingerly Virgil opened the box. His eyes lit up when he saw its contents. He looked back at Scott with genuine gratitude. "Thank you."

"Do you… Would you like me to take the old stuff away?"

Virgil pulled a new toothbrush out of the box. "Would you mind?"

"No. I'll go get them now… if that's okay."

Virgil nodded and Scott scooted into the ensuite, quickly gathered up Virgil's old gear and wrapped them in a towel. He re-emerged carrying his swag. "I forgot to get you your aftershave. Do you want some of the same or do you want me to bring back a selection to choose from?" 

"The same's fine. I like the smell of that."

Scott was glad to see that his brother was starting to relax. "Okay, Virg. I'll be back in a mom…"

"What did you call me?"

"Ah… Virg," Scott said, nonplussed.

"What?" there was an edge to Virgil's voice that hadn't been there before.

"Virg," Scott repeated uncertainly.

"Why?"

"Um, I don't know. It's kinda a nickname," Scott said awkwardly. "I've always called you it." He had a horrible feeling that he'd undone all the progress he'd just made.

"And I let you?" Virgil asked in obvious amazement.

"You've never complained… I always assumed you didn't mind…" Scott was feeling as if he'd insulted a stranger. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise that you didn't like it."

"Maybe I got used to it," Virgil suggested. "It sounds rather strange now."

"I'll try to remember to not use it," Scott offered. "Look… I'll go get rid of this… Okay…? I'll bring back the aftershave… You can start getting washed… Back soon…" He escaped out into the hallway, then practically ran to the storeroom and replaced the items that were still usable.

He stopped a moment and told himself to calm down. He told himself it was his imagination. He told himself he had nothing to worry about. He grabbed a new bottle of aftershave and headed back to Virgil's room. 

On the way back he caught up with Alan and Gordon. "Fellas!" he grabbed hold of their shirts, holding them back.

"Hey, you'll crease it!" Alan complained.

Scott released his grip.

"What's up?" Gordon asked.

"If you're talking to Virgil, call him Virgil will you," Scott requested.

"Huh?" Gordon stared at his brother.

"What else do you expect us to call him?" Alan asked. "Phyllis?"

"No, I mean, don't call him Virg."

"Why?" Gordon asked.

"I've just found out that he doesn't like it," Scott explained.

"Now, or he's never liked it?" Gordon frowned.

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. Has he ever complained to either of you two? I know I'm the worst for calling him that, maybe he hasn't wanted to hurt my feelings."

Both of his brothers were shaking their heads. "Not that I can remember," Alan offered.

"It must be the amnesia," Gordon said in a conciliatory tone. "He's just learning that his name is Virgil and then you throw him by calling him something else."

"Yeah," Alan agreed. "Imagine it. You suddenly discover that your name is 'Virgil' of all things, and then someone goes and calls you 'Virg'."

"What's wrong with Virgil?" Scott asked.

"Well… I mean… It's not a good, down to earth name, like Alan, is it? It's a bit… flowery."

Scott frowned at his brother.

"Give him time, Scott," Gordon tried to sidetrack the potential argument. "He'll either regain his memory, or else he'll get used to being called Virg again." He noticed the wrapped up towel. "What have you got there?"

"Some of Virgil's old stuff. I'm getting rid of it."

"Why?" Alan looked at the package.

"I've replaced his toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving kit, soap, comb, flannel and towel," Scott told them.

"Why?" Gordon repeated Alan's question.

"So that he's got something that he can say is definitely his," Scott explained simply. He looked at the aftershave in his hand and remembered the look Virgil had given him as he'd hurried out the door. He held the bottle out to Gordon. "Give him this will you."

"Don't you want to take it to him?" Gordon asked.

Scott hesitated. "No. Better if you give it to him."

"Okay." Gordon looked at him curiously.

* * *

Virgil had been immensely grateful for the new toiletries. He got washed and then dressed himself in some clothes that Gordon had laid out for him when he'd brought in the aftershave. He looked at himself critically in the mirror. His hair was a mess and he had no idea how he normally wore it. He tried to remember how he'd looked in the portrait, but couldn't recollect how his hair had been styled. Combed forward looked wrong. So did combed back. He ran his fingers through it and thought the result was the best of a bad lot. Then he wondered why he was worried about something as trivial as his hair. 

It was time to discover the rest of the house.

Jeff took him on the initial tour showing him the conventional rooms of the Tracy Villa. In each room he stopped and let Virgil take his time looking around. In each room Jeff was hopeful that Virgil would find something that would trigger his memory.

Each room was a new experience for Virgil.

"These are books, aren't they?" he asked in the library.

"That's right," Jeff confirmed.

"Can I look at one?"

"Of course. Feel free."

"Brains said they were a method of communication." Virgil took a book down and looked at it. "I can't for the life of me see how."

"These marks are letters, which in turn form words," Jeff explained. "See this word says 'house'. This one is 'green'. They are strung together to form a sentence."

"I used to know that, didn't I?" Virgil said. There was a trace of sadness in his voice.

"Yes, you did," Jeff agreed. "Don't worry. If your memory doesn't come back we'll be able to teach you again. I've already ordered some books to help."

Virgil indicated the great wall full of a variety of literature. "Can't any of these help?"

"Possibly, but they might be a bit hard to start with. The ones I've ordered are a bit simpler." Jeff gave a small grin. "Actually, don't tell your brothers, but I've ordered some that are supposedly 'The True Adventures of International Rescue'," he mimed the quotation marks. "It'll be interesting to see what they say. We can teach you to read using them. In the meantime… we'll move on into the study." He led the way.

"Who studies in here?" Virgil asked, gazing at the imposing desk, computer, videophone and leather covered chairs.

"It's mine," Jeff explained. "I come in here when you boys are making too much noise for me to concentrate on my work."

"You make it sound like everyone's under ten years old," Virgil commented.

"Well I won't say that your brothers don't sometimes behave like ten year olds," Jeff laughed, "but I was thinking more of equipment testing and training. Having Thunderbird One lift off past your window ten times in one afternoon can try anyone's patience."

Virgil looked at a photograph in a frame standing on the desk. "That's us, isn't it?"

Jeff moved closer so he could see the photo of himself and his five sons. "That's right. I had it taken the day we started operation as International Rescue. Of course no one else would recognise its significance, but it's special to me. It was the last time for a long time that the six of us were all together."

Virgil looked at him quizzically.

"Someone's always up on Thunderbird Five," Jeff explained.

"But no one is now," Virgil noted.

"True," Jeff agreed. "I don't like leaving Thunderbird Five unstaffed, but… I do enjoy having you all around me." He sighed. "I'll have to make a decision about when John is going to go back…"

John and Alan were to be Virgil's guides for the more unusual rooms in the house. Alan showed Virgil the workshop and laboratory. Brains was seated at his desk, morosely perusing research material on the computer and frowning at what he was finding. 

"Found anything of interest, Brains?" Alan asked.

"N-Nothing that can cure amnesia," Brains replied. "Have you any ideas as to what c-caused it, Virgil?"

"No," Virgil replied. "I've been trying to remember, but…" he shrugged.

"You c-can't remember anything of what happened to you before G-Gordon found you?"

"No," Virgil shook his head again. "It's as if I was in the dark and Gordon somehow turned the light on."

"Pity he couldn't have illuminated things a little brighter," Alan commented. "Can you show Virgil something, Brains?"

Brains thought for a moment. "There's a CAD you were w-working on."

Virgil stared at him. "CAD?"

"C-Computer Aided Design," Brains informed him. "Here let me sh-show you." He sat in front of a computer monitor. "You were working on a development plan for a piece of equipment…" a few taps of the light pen and a wire-frame picture of a machine appeared on screen.

"What's it going to do?" Alan asked.

"It's kind of a Swiss Army Knife," Brains explained. He tapped the light pen again and the wire-frame was clothed in what appeared to be a metallic skin. The image was now nearly photo perfect as he caused the virtual machine to swing through 360 degrees. "We're trying to make it as multifunctional as possible. So far it has a plough, drill, shears, saws, cannon…"

"Does it go underwater too?" Alan asked facetiously.

Brains took him seriously. "We did consider that, but decided it would be too heavy… Now to add a light source…" He clicked the light pen a couple of times and a spot of light appeared on the machine, following the contours as it rotated. "I could play with this for hours," he admitted. "Changing colour and texture, but you had the talent, Virgil, to make the machine come to life."

"I did?"

Brains nodded. "The next step is to make a holographic image and put that into an emergency scene and see how the craft performs. If that is satisfactory, we'll make a working prototype."

"You've stopped stuttering!" Virgil suddenly exclaimed.

Alan cleared his throat awkwardly. "Maybe we'd better go, Virgil."

"I-It's all right, Alan. I don't mind. I st-stutter when talking to people, but when I'm dealing with my experiments, I lose it."

"Oh," Virgil had reddened slightly. "Thanks… Sorry… I…"

"Come on, Virgil," Alan pulled him out of the lab.

Alan next led Virgil outside to the vegetable gardens and glasshouses. Inside one they found Kyrano busily tending to his plants.

"Watchya doin', Kyrano," Alan asked.

"Mister Alan, Mister Virgil," Kyrano bowed slightly. "I am deciding what we should have for lunch. Does anything interest you, Mister Virgil?"

"Ah, nothing in particular," Virgil said uneasily. Everything looked the same, green and leafy, to him. "I'm sure whatever you pick will be okay, Mister Kyrano."

Kyrano smiled gently. "You call me Kyrano, Mister Virgil."

"Why? You called me Mister Virgil."

"It is right."

"Why?" Virgil asked again confused. "You're older… I mean… more senior than me. Why do you call me Mister?"

"It is right," Kyrano repeated again, serenely.

Virgil looked at Alan.

"Don't ask me," Alan replied. "We gave up ages ago trying to convince him just to call us by our first names. It's not as if we regard him as only a servant, he's part of the family."

Kyrano bowed again. "I thank you, Mister Alan."

Alan gave Virgil a 'what can you do' look. Then he spied Tin-Tin. "Ah, Kyrano. Perhaps you'll explain to Virgil what some of these plants are… I'll be back in a minute." He scooted over to where she was tilling the soil around some lettuces and crouched down beside her. "Hiya."

She gave him a warm smile. "Hello, Alan."

"I'm giving Virg a tour of the house..." Something clicked in Alan's brain. "Hang on. I've got to remember to call him Virgil, not Virg."

"Why?"

"We've just found out that he doesn't like it. Scott's got himself into a right tizz because he called him Virg. I don't know what the problem is. It's only a name."

"I suppose that when you don't know anything about yourself your name could become very important to you," Tin-Tin said as she demurely removed a weed that had dared to poke its leafy head above the soil.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Alan said thoughtfully. "I hadn't thought of it like that. I've been trying to imagine what amnesia's like, but I can't. Not really."

Her smile saddened slightly. "Does he remember anything?"

He lost his own smile. "No… It's really weird explaining things to him. I showed him how a welder works. I can remember him showing me, and then fixing up my finger after I'd burnt it on the torch."

"How's he relating to you?"

Alan shrugged. "Seems okay, though it's definitely not as it used to be. You feel like you can't tease him."

"Just as well," Tin-Tin commented. "You were horrible sometimes. And Gordon was worse!"

"He's getting on well with Gordon."

"And Scott?"

"I dunno," Alan said slowly. "Gordon seems to think that he's not too keen on Scott at the moment."

"I'd wondered," Tin-Tin said. "Any ideas why?"

"No… We'd better continue on. John's taking over at eleven." He stood. "Catch you later?"

Tin-Tin gave him that special smile that she reserved only for him.

He was still smiling himself when he and Virgil left the greenhouse.

"Are you and Tin-Tin… an item?" Virgil asked.

Alan choked, stopped, and stared at his brother. "Why'd you say that?"

"The way she looked at you, and the way you looked at her."

"Oh," Alan said non-committedly as his face flushed red. "I guess she's pretty nice."

"You're lucky," Virgil said.

Alan stared at him a moment, wondering exactly what his brother meant. "Lucky? Uh, yes. I guess I am."

"Do I have anyone special?"

"No," Alan admitted. "Well, no one I know about."

They met up with John in the doorway to the villa. "I'm going to show you the recreation rooms," he told Virgil.

The shooting gallery made Virgil feel uneasy. "Why does International Rescue need this?" he asked.

"Some of our equipment means that we have to be accurate shots," John explained. "Things like grappling hooks and lasers and so on. We have guns for self defence too. We also quite enjoy having sharp shooting competitions with each other. You're a pretty good shot."

"I am?"

"Here," John removed a gun from the cabinet and handed it to Virgil. "Have a go."

Virgil looked at the gun. "You show me first."

"Okay," John retrieved another gun and took aim at a target. There was a soft pop and a computer screen showed the image of a target. A black mark was shown on one of the outer rings. John examined the image. "Could be better," he grunted. "I'm out of practice. That's the problem with being trapped on Thunderbird Five for a month. Your turn."

Virgil copied John's stance, raised the gun to eye level and pulled on the trigger. The computer image came up on the screen.

"You missed," John said.

"That felt awkward," Virgil told him.

"Try using the other hand," John suggested. "You're ambidextrous, maybe you'll find it easier shooting the other way."

Virgil took his advice and reversed his position.

"Now, don't pull the trigger, squeeze it," John instructed.

Virgil did as he was told and was surprised when instead of the target appearing on the computer monitor, a star was splashed on screen.

"Bulls eye!" John congratulated him. "Well done! Come on. Next stop: Tracy's Malaysian Theatre."

In the theatre Virgil surprised John by remembering the names of several movies.

"But you hated those!" John exclaimed.

"Did I? I wonder why I can remember them," Virgil frowned in consternation.

"We haven't time to watch any now," John was looking at his watch, "it's almost time for lunch. Remind me and I'll dig out some of your favourites later."

* * *

The final destination for the morning was the gym. Scott was already in there, using the punch bag as if it were his worst enemy after a big argument. 

"Look around, Virgil," John offered. "If you have any questions just ask." He waited until Virgil moved away before he walked over to Scott.

"Hiya, Johnny," Scott grunted.

"What are you doing?" John asked quietly and braced the bag for his brother.

"Working out."

"Why?"

"'Cause I felt like it." Scott attacked the bag with two heavy jabs.

"If you carry on like this you'll be solid muscle and too heavy for Thunderbird One to lift off the ground. Now tell me what's wrong."

"Nothin's wrong." Scott took a swipe at the bag just as John gave it a push. It swung into Scott, catching him unawares. He grabbed it to stop himself from being pushed over, and hung off it. "What did you do that for?"

John checked that Virgil was still circumnavigating the room. "Nothing's wrong?" he asked flatly. "Spill it, Scott."

Scott looked over at Virgil too. "He doesn't like being called Virg."

"Huh?"

"I took him some new gear. He seemed to really appreciate it. We were getting on like a house on fire… until I called him Virg."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing really. But I could see that he got his back up over it." Scott rubbed his nose on his boxing glove. "I've put my foot in it."

"Not necessarily."

"What if he's never liked being called Virg?"

"You're worrying about the past again, Scott. Don't! He would have told you if he didn't like it. Now if you've got the energy come and give a demonstration of some of this gear…"

* * *

Eventually it was time for lunch. Virgil would have preferred to have ignored his rumbling tummy and not faced the ordeal, and was relieved to hear Gordon say, "you and I are going on a picnic together, Pal." 

Gordon led the way towards the lookout. From here they could look down on the Tracy Villa and some of the other buildings. Virgil gazed in appreciation at the golden sands and blue waters. For the first time today he felt he was able to relax.

Gordon opened the pack that contained their lunches and looked in at the meal supplied by Kyrano. "There's enough to feed an army in here," he said, his voice muffled by the bag. "Hang on! What's this?"

"Don't ask me, I won't know," Virgil said morosely and wandered over to have a look.

Gordon pulled out a sketchpad and pencil. "Kyrano wouldn't have packed this."

"What is it?"

"One of your sketchpads."

"One of MY sketchpads?"

"Yeah," Gordon handed the two items over.

Virgil took them and examined them closely. "What do you do with them?"

Gordon was silent for a moment, examining a wheel of cheese intently.

Virgil thought he hadn't heard the question, so repeated it.

"It's," Gordon's voice cracked and he cleared his throat before continuing on. "You use the pencil to draw on the pad."

"Draw?"

"Make a picture."

"I don't understand."

"Give it here," Gordon took the pad and pencil. "See how the pencil makes a mark on the paper?" He started sketching. "I'm drawing. I'm drawing a picture of the scene."

"That's drawing?" Virgil looked over his shoulder.

"Yes. I'm drawing a drawing," Gordon told him. "But not a good one." He handed the pad back to Virgil.

Virgil looked at it. "What is it?"

"That's the house," Gordon pointed out an irregularly shaped box. "That's the ocean, the beach and that," his finger moved to what looked like some poorly drawn spiders impaled on sticks, "are the palm trees."

Virgil looked at the picture, then at the scene, and then back at Gordon. "It looks nothing like it!"

"I know! I'm not an artist. You are."

"I'm an artist?"

"That's someone who can paint and draw and make it look like what it's supposed to be. Go on, I'll finish setting up, see what you can draw."

"Okay," Virgil said uncertainly. He turned the page of the sketchpad so an unblemished sheet was topmost, looked at the pencil and then turned his attention back to the scene that Gordon had just drawn. Cautiously he made his first mark.

* * *

"Father?" 

"Yes, Scott?"

"Has Virgil ever complained to you about me calling him Virg?"

Jeff stared at his son. "Once. But that was years ago!"

"Oh," Scott said quietly.

"Some of the other children at school teased him over it. Why are you asking?"

"He says he doesn't like it," Scott informed him. "I hadn't realised. What if he's never liked it?"

"He would have told you if he didn't," Jeff said confidently.

"But would he? I know that… for some strange reason… he's always looked up to me."

Jeff smiled at the awkward admission. "I honestly believe that there would have been some point where he would have told you not to call him that, if it bothered him..." He hesitated. "This isn't only about his name, is it?"

Scott sat on the end of the couch and looked at his hands. "He doesn't like me much now, does he?" He sounded as if he was hoping that his father would rebuke the statement.

Jeff couldn't. "He's getting to know you again. He's getting to know all of us. Give him time, Scott."

"But how much time is he going to need? This all feels so wrong! I… We… We were a team! I know I can rely on the other guys, but with Virg…" with an effort Scott remembered, "Virgil, there was never any doubt when we were on rescues. I always had this certainty that he would come through, no matter what I asked him to do. I knew I could always count on him to support me. He knew I was always there for him. And now… now he'd rather spend time with Gordon."

"And you're jealous?"

Scott sighed. "I don't know that it's jealousy. More… More that I feel I've lost something. As if someone's cut off my right hand. I can see it lying there, but I can't use it!"

"Not a very palatable analogy, but I think I understand." Jeff looked at his oldest. It was a long time since he'd seen him so despondent. "I wish I could do something to help… offer some advice… but I'm lost as much as you are. All any of us can do, is what I said before. Give him time… or hope that the amnesia cures itself."

* * *

Gordon took his time preparing the meal. He was curious as to how well Virgil was drawing, but felt if it was anything less than up to his brother's usual standard he wouldn't be able to take the shock. Then again if it was up to his standard, how come he couldn't remember that he could draw? He shook his head at the unanswered questions, and pretended to clean out the mugs that had been carefully packed away in their dirt resistant container. Eventually he ran out of things to do. "How's it going?" he asked. 

"Okay, I guess," Virgil handed over the drawing. "How is it?"

Gordon stared at the picture. Although unfinished it was better than his own. A darn sight better. "Virgil! This is good! And I mean really good!"

"As good as what I used to be able to do?"

"I'd say so. Wait till the others see this. But first! Lunch!" He held out a filled roll.

Virgil took it and started looking about.

"What have you lost?"

"A knife and fork."

"You don't need to use them at every meal. Just use your fingers."

Once he'd satisfied his hunger, Virgil picked up the pad and pencil again, eager to see what else he could create. He tried quick sketches of individual things, such as the picnic pack, a rock and a bug that was crawling across the rug.

Gordon looked at his watch. "We'd better start thinking about heading back. Scott's going to show you Thunderbird Two this afternoon."

"Oh," Virgil said unenthusiastically.

Gordon looked at him curiously. "You don't like Scott much do you? Why?"

Virgil thought a moment. "I'm not sure. He's always ordering people about… I find him intimidating."

"Intimidating!" Gordon said in amazement. "Scott? He's a big pussycat. Tries to pretend that he's all teeth and claws, but scratch him in the right place and he'll go all gooey eyed, and start purring."

"At the risk of asking a leading question," Virgil began cautiously, "where would you scratch him?"

"Ask him anything about planes and flying," Gordon suggested. "And if you really want to make him drool in ecstasy, ask him about Thunderbird One."

"The rocket plane."

"That's right."

They walked back to the villa.

"Did you have a good lunch, boys?" Jeff asked.

"Yes, thank you," Virgil replied politely. He began to examine some of the artworks on display.

"Check that out," Gordon tossed the sketchpad onto his father's desk. "I'll go put the pack back in the kitchen."

Jeff picked up the pad and stared at the top sketch. He was still staring when Gordon re-entered the room. "Who did this?"

"Oh. Don't look at that." Gordon reached over and tore the top page off. "That was my effort." He screwed up the bit of paper and threw it in the bin.

"That's a relief," Jeff said quietly and then stared at the second picture. "That's definitely Virgil's work."

"Uh-huh," Gordon agreed. "I should have taught him how to write his initials so he could've signed it like he always does… did… used to."

Jeff flicked through the pictures. "They may not be as polished as usual, but he hasn't lost any of his talent."

"But he didn't have a clue what I was talking about when I told him he could draw. He didn't know he could do it."

Jeff looked at him. "You're kidding!"

"Nope. That's why I did the first drawing, to show him how it's done, or more correctly not done."

"These are very good, Virgil," Jeff called across the room.

Virgil smiled shyly. "Thank you," he said in a formal manner.


	7. Seven

** Seven**

Scott didn't know if he was looking forward to this afternoon's tour or not. Gordon had found him in his bedroom and told him Virgil was ready to see Thunderbird Two…

"Just one thing, Scott…"

"Yeah?"

"I asked him…" Gordon couldn't think of a way of phrasing it delicately. "I asked him why he didn't like you. He said that he found you intimidating."

"Intimidating?"

"That you're always ordering people about."

"Intimidating…? Am I?"

"Of course you're not," Gordon tried to reassure him. "Virgil hasn't got to know you properly yet. Just go against the habit of a lifetime and try not to tell us what to do all the time."

"I don't," Scott said indignantly.

"Yes you do. Ask anyone in the family."

"Intimidating," Scott repeated. "I would never have thought…" He sighed. "Well I guess we'd better make a start… Let's go, Gordon."

Gordon stared at him pointedly.

"Are you ready, Gordon?" Scott amended.

"Better, but you've got to work on it."

"What am I supposed to say? 'Alan, would you mind taking the Firefly into that blazing inferno to rescue those people, please?' They'd be dead by the time I'd said that. Not to mention that it sounds stupid."

"Don't be silly. It's your job to order us about on rescues, and, until he's better, Virgil won't be joining us on those. We just don't need the big brother treatment at home."

"Big brother treatment!" Scott said incredulously. "I don't…!" He stopped himself. "Okay. I'll try to remember. Let's get this show on the road. Come on, Gordon."

Gordon looked at him.

"…If you please."

They joined their father and brothers in the lounge.

"You're not all coming," Scott asked, and then worried that it sounded like an order, added, "…are you?"

"Are you kidding?" Alan said. "I'll bet that one look at Thunderbird Two and Virgil'll remember everything. And if he doesn't, I want to see his reaction when he sees her."

"Do you mind, Virgil?" Scott asked.

Virgil shrugged non-committedly.

"Good. Because I'm coming too," John told him.

"Looks like you've got quite a party, Scott," Gordon told him.

Jeff rode along with his sons in the monorail to Thunderbird Two's hangar.

"You would have seen the runway from the lookout," Scott told Virgil. "The hangar is hidden at the end of that." Virgil nodded his understanding. 

Scott stopped the monorail just before it entered the hangar. "It's through these doors. If you look through… If you'd care to look through the windows on the right you'll see it."

Virgil turned to look out the windows…

The entrance hatch cycled back and the monorail slid through…

Everyone waited breathlessly to hear Virgil's reaction…

"Which is it?" he asked.

There was a stunned silence. Everyone suddenly realised that they'd been secretly hoping that Thunderbird Two would be the key that would unlock Virgil's memory. Then they realised that he didn't even know what he was looking at. 

Virgil looked at Scott expectantly.

"Ah, that's it there," Scott pointed out the window. "The green plane."

"That's it? It thought it was too big to be a plane. It's huge!"

"76.2 metres long, 18.3 metres high. It's got to be big so it can carry our equipment. She can carry up to 100 tons."

"Remember, I told you it carries Thunderbird Four," Gordon piped up.

The monorail took them down to floor level. "Everybody out," Scott said, "…please." He started to lead them across the hangar floor, stopping by a control bank. 

"It looks even bigger from down here," Virgil commented.

"What do you think, Virgil?" John asked.

"It's… It's…" Virgil struggled to find the right words. "It's very green."

"If you want to complain to the person who chose the colour," Alan said flippantly, "wait till next time you're looking in the mirror."

His father gave him a warning glare.

Virgil looked at Thunderbird Two critically. "Those leg things don't look that secure."

"They're stronger than they look," Scott said. "And they're designed like that for a purpose. John! Push the… Ah, would you mind pushing the button that will lower Thunderbird Two, please?"

John gave him a strange look and pressed the button.

Virgil watched, fascinated, as the mighty plane settled down over her pod. "Wow!"

"Go and… Why don't you go and have a closer look, Virgil," Scott suggested awkwardly.

"Yeah. Come on," Gordon said eagerly and started leading the way. Scott tried to follow, but was held back by John and his father. 

"What are you doing, Scott?" Jeff whispered.

"Trying to show him Thunderbird Two," Scott said in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"He means that you're sounding like a prize idiot," John told him.

"Not the way I'd phrase it, but…" Jeff's words tailed off meaningfully. "What's the problem, Son?"

Looking shamefaced Scott told him. "Gordon said that Virgil doesn't like me because he finds me intimidating."

"Intimidating!" Jeff said in amazement.

"That I order everyone about."

"So you do," John agreed. "But that's you. We expect that from you, not this… this…" he threw his hands up in an expressive gesture as words failed him.

"See, you agree with him."

"So you're trying to make Virgil like you by not being yourself," Jeff said.

"That's dumb, Scott. Really dumb," John stated.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Scott asked.

"Relax and be yourself!" John advised.

"Let him get to know the real you," Jeff added. "He liked you before when he knew you. Give him a chance to get to know you again."

"It's been less than 24 hours," John reminded him. "He's hardly seen you in that time. So relax!"

There was a shout from over by Thunderbird Two. "Hey, Scott!"

"What, Gordon?"

"I thought you were supposed to be taking this tour. There's a man here with an aviation question."

"There y'are," John said. "Right up your street. Go and impress him by being yourself."

"Okay." Scott jogged over to the little group waiting under Thunderbird Two's port wing. "What can I do for you?"

"Why are the wings pointing forwards?" Virgil asked.

"She flies better that way. We'd got her basic design down the way we wanted, with the removable pods, but she wasn't performing adequately in tests. We were just about to scrap the design and start again when you started doodling on the plans and reversed the angle of the wings. She looked better and worked like a charm. Come over here and I'll show you the original designs." Scott led the way over to the workroom that was situated off to one side of the hangar.

John winked at his father.

Scott was digging through a filing cabinet. "Here we go… That was the original plan. A more conventional rear-loading cargo hold."

Virgil looked at the plan. "But then you wouldn't have the flexibility to use the plane elsewhere while your equipment was offloaded. And that style of plane relies on a runway…" he petered out in amazement. "How did I know that?" he asked himself.

"Exactly," Scott agreed. "That's why we developed the detachable pods and modified her to utilise VTOL jets." He produced a second plan.

"VTOL?"

"Vertical take off and landing."

"Oh."

Scott decided that they'd seen enough of Thunderbird Two on paper and it was time to get back to the real thing. He led the way back into the hangar.

Virgil looked up at the scarlet projections at the rear of the craft. "What engines does it use?"

"Two variable-cycle gas turbine engines, 12 variable-cycle turbo-ram cruise/trim jets, four VTOL jets and four vertical take-off chemical rockets in the landing legs." Scott told him.

Virgil looked at him. "I suppose that used to mean something to me."

"Well…" Scott said awkwardly. "What do you think, now that you've got up close?"

Virgil craned his neck, trying to see beyond the outstretched wings. "It's so big, it's frightening."

"Frightening?" Alan asked.

"Yes. Kind of like an iceberg. You know how you can only see the top third… or whatever it is…"

"Eighth," Gordon supplied.

"Yeah. But the bottom seven eighths is the bit you've got to watch out for."

His family was staring at him in bewilderment.

Virgil shrugged and took a step closer. He stretched out a hand to touch Thunderbird Two's outer shell, and then withdrew it. He looked at Jeff. "May I touch it?"

"Of course you can."

Virgil placed his palm on a section. "It's cold! For some reason I was expecting it to be warm."

"She's made of cahelium, which is heat resistant," Scott said. "But you always spoke of her as if she were alive. Maybe that's why you were expecting her to be warm."

Virgil made no comment.

"Do you want to go inside?" Scott asked.

"May I?"

Scott led him round to the door and gained access. "The doors on all our craft are programmed that only members of International Rescue can open them." He confidently stepped inside. Virgil followed with considerably more trepidation. 

First stop was the interior of the pod. "Now you can see why she has to be so big," Scott explained.

Virgil stared about him with wide eyes. "Wow! It's like being inside one of those Russian dolls. You know, the doll within the doll…"

Gordon tugged him on the sleeve. "Come and look at Thunderbird Four!" he said eagerly.

"Your submarine?" Virgil obediently followed him across the floor of the pod.

"What do you think?" Gordon asked proudly, indicating the yellow sub.

"Ah, um, okay, I guess," Virgil stammered. "What does it do?"

"Oh," Gordon was momentarily crestfallen. "Lots of things."

"It looks… good," Virgil tried, "but I suppose it's more impressive in action."

"Yeah! That's right," Gordon perked up again. "She can dive down to 1½ leagues and cruise underwater at 160 knots."

Virgil gave a low whistle. "That is impressive!"

"I know she's only small, but she packs missiles, rams, laser cutters and grabs," Gordon said excitedly.

Virgil reflected that small was a relative term. Thunderbird Four was considerably larger than him, but definitely small compared to Thunderbird Two.

"Come and have a look inside," Gordon invited, and bounded up to the entrance hatch with the confidence borne of long experience. Virgil was more circumspect. He looked at the rest of the group before following the aquanaut. 

John looked at his watch. "How long are you going to give him?"

"Yeah," Alan asked. "Once you've got Gordon wound up over Thunderbird Four he'll hold Virgil captive in there for hours."

Scott gave a wry grin and looked at his own watch. "He's got exactly five minutes. We're here to see Thunderbird Two, not Thunderbird Four."

They counted down the minutes. At the end of the time limit Jeff turned to Scott. "Let me give the order this time." He turned back towards the armourglass viewport, through which they could see Gordon animatedly explaining to Virgil some of the highlights of his craft. "Boys! Time to move on."

Gordon's head popped up through the topmost hatch. "Aw. Just five minutes more?"

"Come on, Gordon. We're here to see Thunderbird Two," Scott reminded him.

Gordon pouted. "I was just telling him about the time I rescued those guys from the Fireflash."

"You can tell him that anywhere. He doesn't have to have a live demonstration," John stated.

Virgil had clambered out of the port hatch. He wandered around the sub to meet up with the rest of the group, looking about him as he did so.

Gordon saw him. "He got away!"

"Told you," Alan said quietly. "Held captive."

"Are you going to join us for the rest of the tour?" Scott asked the aquanaut. "Or are we going to leave you to enjoy a little quiet time with your lady love?"

Virgil looked at him in curiosity.

"Thunderbird Four," Scott explained.

Now Virgil looked astonished.

"I'm coming," Gordon grumbled. "Just give me a moment to put the teletype and my wetsuit away."

"Got a rubber fetish too," Alan snickered.

Virgil was beginning to get that familiar confused feeling again.

"We'll meet you in the winch room, Gordon," Scott called.

There was an indistinct reply from inside Thunderbird Four.

Gordon caught up with them as they were exiting the winch room. They continued the tour through the rest of the craft ending up in the cockpit.

"You must remember this!" Alan was almost pleading.

Virgil entered further into the room. He slowly walked over to where his pilot's seat would normally have resided and looked at the controls and gauges that he'd been told he knew intimately.

His family waited with baited breath.

Slowly Virgil reached out for the control yoke. He stopped short of touching it. 

"It's okay, Son," Jeff encouraged him.

Virgil looked at him as if to confirm the implied permission and then placed both hands on the yoke. He tentatively tried turning it. He released his grip and turned back to the expectant group. He folded his arms, hugging them close to him. "Nothing," he said. 

An air of depression appeared to settle on his family. Their hopes had been dashed.

Virgil was aware of their collective mood. "Now, I've upset you all. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Jeff told him.

"No. But I'm the cause," Virgil said despondently.

"Wrong angle!" Alan suddenly exclaimed.

Everyone looked at him.

"He's looking at it from the wrong angle," Alan gabbled. "He's not sitting down!"

"You're right!" Scott agreed. "Get the testing seat, Alan."

"Right!" Alan took off. He returned a short time later with a pilot's seat. "Help me, John."

"Why wasn't it there before?" Virgil asked.

"The pilot's seat is part of the chute that comes down through the roof," Gordon explained. "This one's for testing purposes."

"Through the roof," Virgil repeated slowly.

No one took the time to explain. They were in too much of a hurry to get the seat set up.

At last they stood back to reveal the newly installed seat.

"There y'are, Virgil!" Alan exclaimed. "Try that."

Virgil did as he was told.

Things didn't seem to be any better.

"Look, why don't we take him for a flight," Scott suggested.

"Just a short one," Jeff warned.

Virgil started to get out of the pilot's seat.

"No, stay there," Scott said. "I'll fly her, but I can control the initial stages from here." He flicked a switch that brought Thunderbird Two to life.

Virgil watched fascinated as lights flashed on on the control panel and the equipment about him started humming.

Scott stood just behind him. "Right. All systems are green…" He checked the radar. "We're clear… Now to move onto the runway… Excuse me, Virgil." He reached across his brother towards a button. "I've just got to open the hangar door. It's hidden by the cliff face…"

..._Cliff Face_...

Words seemed to reverberate in Virgil's mind. He suddenly felt constrained by the proximity of the control yoke, the computer console, Scott…

With a yell he leapt out of the pilot's seat. He found himself pressed up against the cool of the windows of the cabin and turned back to see five anxious faces looking at him.

He ran a shaking hand over his forehead and eyes. "I'm sorry… I don't know why I did that…" He gulped.

"Are you alright, Virgil," Jeff asked solicitously.

Virgil nodded. "I-I'm… tired..." He looked up. "W-Would you mind if we continued this later?"

"If you'd prefer to, that's fine," Jeff reassured him.

"Sure," Scott said with forced cheerfulness. "I'll take you for a flight tomorrow."

"Would you mind if I went back to the house?" Virgil asked shakily.

"Come on," Gordon offered. "I'll show you the way."

They were no sooner out the door, when Scott started defending himself. "I swear I didn't touch him! I wasn't even looking at him!"

"Calm down, Scott. We were here. We know what happened," Jeff said soothingly. "No one's blaming you."

"Then what happened?" Alan asked.

"He was fine, wasn't he?" John said.

"Seemed to be," Alan said. "It must be Scott. He got too close. That's gotta be it!"

"Alan!" Jeff said warningly.

Scott looked depressed.

"It's not your fault, Son," Jeff reiterated.

"So now what do we do?" John asked.

"Now we give Virgil some time alone. He hasn't had much sleep since before the rescue. He probably is tired…" Jeff thought a moment. "I'll think I'll go and see Brains, then we need to have a meeting and discuss International Rescue. Alan, will you go and tell Gordon when he's finished with Virgil?"

"Sure thing," Alan made a movement as if he were going to leave the cockpit, hesitated, gave Scott a comforting pat on the shoulder, and then left on his errand.

"And I thought things were going so well," Scott said despondently.

* * *

The meeting took place in the study. They were idly discussing things while they waited for Gordon to make an appearance. 

"Maybe I'd better be the one that goes back to Thunderbird Five," Scott suggested.

John stared at him. "Why!"

"It's obvious I'm making Virgil uncomfortable. He gets on better with you and Alan. Let him get used to the household routines and then we can worry about how he reacts to me."

"Now you're being really silly," John said.

Jeff was shaking his head. "No, Scott. While Virgil's out of action I want the best men available for each craft. That means you piloting Thunderbird One, and John on Thunderbird Five."

"I'll go back to Thunderbird Five," Alan volunteered.

"It's not your turn, Alan," John reminded him.

"No… But I think I'd be happier there," Alan admitted. "This is too weird for me at the moment." The others looked at him. "Don't shoot me! I'm being honest, okay!"

"Okay, Alan," Jeff acknowledged. "Your viewpoint is noted."

"I don't mind staying," John offered, with a sideways look at his older brother.

"No. I think we should stick to the established routine," Jeff said. "Keep things as normal as possible, for Virgil's sake. It's only three weeks until you two are due to change rotation, so we'll keep to schedule. Any comments?" He looked at his sons.

They made none.

"Right," Jeff took that as an affirmation. "Tomorrow you head back to Thunderbird Five, John."

"Yes, Sir."

Gordon entered the room. "I told him that he needed some sun, so he's having a nap on a deckchair." He looked at his family. "Any idea what happened back there?" His answer was a collective shaking of heads. 

"I asked Brains," his father told him. "He's as flummoxed as the rest of us."

"So, what's the situation?" Gordon asked. "Do we carry on as if nothing's happened?"

"More or less," Jeff agreed. "John's heading back to Thunderbird Five tomorrow. You'll have to take control of Thunderbird Two. If we get a rescue that requires Thunderbird Four, Alan will pilot Thunderbird Two."

"Okay," Gordon agreed easily.

"I know this past day has been difficult for us all," Jeff said. "But, for Virgil's sake, we've got to try and behave as we normally would."

"That's not going to be easy," Scott noted.

"I know. We've already got changes that are affecting us all. We've got to try to minimise the affects of those changes. And try to find something that will restore Virgil's memory…"

* * *

Later that evening found the Tracy clan in the villa's theatre. 

"Why are we here?" Virgil asked.

"I thought we'd take the opportunity to reacquaint you with some of your past history," Jeff told him.

"He means home movies," Alan groaned. "How embarrassing."

"Where shall we start?" Jeff asked.

"How about the beginning?" Gordon suggested.

"He won't remember being born," John said. "Try something later, Dad."

"Okay. I'll pick something out at random."

The lights were dimmed. They settled back to watch the large screen.

The first shot was of a tree. The tree was standing at an odd angle. It suddenly swung upright as the camera's orientation was corrected. A small boy ran across the screen from right to left, his shock of red hair contrasting sharply with bright yellow t-shirt. He disappeared out of shot. 

"Hi, Gordon. Bye, Gordon," Alan said.

An older boy with dark brown hair wandered on and set about laying a blanket on the ground in front of the tree.

A hand, holding a cloth, appeared and wiped down the camera lens. Then a face squinted into the lens, withdrawing before the camera had a chance to focus on it.

Most of the Tracys watching burst out laughing.

"Nice one, Dad," John commented.

On screen the older boy had disappeared. He was back a short time later, carrying the redhead, who was now wearing flippers and a swimming mask. The elder positioned the younger on the blanket and proceed to divest him of his nautical gear. He then attempted to carry the flippers and mask out of shot.

Young Gordon burst into tears and held out his hands for his toys.

"That's Gordon all right," Scott commented. "Other kids his age had security blankets. He had flippers."

Trying to keep the peace the older boy returned the flippers to young Gordon who happily clutched them to his chest.

"Isn't there any sound?" Mrs Tracy asked.

"Later," Jeff grunted.

The older boy had disappeared again. When he returned, he was dragging another, this time blond haired boy, who was slightly younger than himself. The blond boy was obviously protesting as he clutched his book.

"You were a real bookworm, weren't you, John," Scott said.

"Still am," John conceded.

The older boy tried to remove young John's book.

"Let me guess," Virgil said. "That's got to be Scott." The family laughed at the comment. 

Jeff noticed that Scott's laugh rang hollow.

Young Scott had managed to claim John's book and had taken it out of shot. John poked his tongue out at him, waited till his back was turned and then dashed off to reclaim the book again. He returned to his place on the blanket, settled down cross-legged and proceeded to immerse himself in the hardback.

The camera wobbled unnervingly.

Young Scott had returned carrying a baby. The blond haired tot was placed on the blanket. He began to crawl at speed towards the camera.

"Always the camera hog weren't you, Alan" Gordon teased.

"Oh, you were so cute!" Grandma Tracy leant forward, and pinched Alan on the cheeks.

"Thanks, Grandma," Alan said flatly as he rubbed his face.

Scott, the boy, was trying to convince Alan, the baby, to stay on the blanket.

A young woman, in her early thirties, with chestnut brown hair wandered into view. A little boy with similar coloured hair was clutching at her hand. He spied Scott, who had removed John's book again, and ran over to him, smiling in delight.

"Who's the woman?" Virgil asked.

"That's your mother," Jeff told him quietly.

"I haven't met her yet have I. Where is she?"

The room fell into silence. Silence that was broken as young Jeff Tracy discovered the sound controls on his camera. "… has sound."

"Jeff!" Lucille Tracy scolded lightly. "Didn't you read the manual first?" She picked young Alan up and cuddled him.

"Didn't have time," young Jeff conceded.

Lucille pouted, showing that she didn't totally believe him.

"You stand there, Ma," young Scott instructed.

"Of, course, Darling," she agreed. "Come on, Jeff. We want you in this photo too."

"Father, you stand beside Ma," young Scott said and Jeff Tracy, younger, darker haired and without the facial creases of maturity and worry, finally come into view. "You can hold Gordon. I'll look after Virgil."

The chestnut haired boy took his hand and looked up adoringly.

Virgil looked at the figure on screen. So that young boy was him. But why was no one was willing to answer his question about their mother?

Finally everyone on screen was settled to Scott's satisfaction. Jeff holding Gordon, and Lucille holding Alan were standing on the blanket. In front of them stood Scott, Virgil and John, who'd finally been persuaded to leave his book alone. Jeff juggled Gordon, retrieved a remote control from his pocket, gave the command "Smile!"… And the picture froze.

A photo, recording their happy family for ever more.

The screen went blank and Jeff turned off the projector. They sat in awkward silence. 

John was the first to speak. More out of a need to release the tension than for any other reason. "You were always up to date with the latest technology then, Dad?"

"Was this before or after you went to the moon?" Alan asked.

"A couple of months before," Scott told him.

"And they let you go?" Alan turned and stared at his father in dismay.

"Alan! Sit down!" His grandmother swatted him gently on the back of the head.

"I believe, Virgil, that you asked a question," Jeff said quietly. Once again the room fell into an uneasy silence. He continued. "Your mother died a short time after that film was taken. She, and your grandfather, were killed in an avalanche." 

"Oh," Virgil said, at a loss to say anything else.

"It's part of the reason why I thought of creating International Rescue," Jeff finished his explanation.

"Oh," Virgil said again.

"I'm sorry, guys," Gordon said. "That's one bit of information I didn't think to tell him."

"It's okay, Gordon," Scott said. "You couldn't think of everything."

Virgil wished he had.


	8. Eight

** Eight**

It was Scott who first heard the yells that night. His instinct was to get up and help, but decided that, this time, it wasn't the right thing to do. Especially when he heard Gordon's feet pounding down the hallway. He lay there listening, counting down the minutes, which blended into hours until he heard a door slide shut and footsteps patter back to the room further down the hall…

Next morning Gordon dragged himself to the dining room table. Scott looked at him in sympathy. "0120 hours wasn't it?" 

"Uh, huh," Gordon confirmed.

"And you didn't get back to bed until 0335."

"Yup." Gordon looked at Scott. "You got your stopwatch operating or somethin'?"

"No. I couldn't sleep. Have you checked on him this morning?"

Gordon nodded. "He's getting changed. I said I'd give him ten minutes and then come and check up on him." He yawned.

John slid into his seat at the dining table.

"How'd you sleep last night?" Scott asked him.

"Okay, until Gordon did his midnight flight."

"Don't blame me," Gordon protested.

"I'm not. Just making a comment. Another nightmare, huh?"

"Yep."

"Was it the same dream?" Jeff asked as he lowered his paper.

"Dunno. He couldn't remember it again. I think it must have been, judging by the way he was screaming. Whatever it is – it's terrifying if it frightens Virgil that much." Gordon looked at his watch. "I'll give him another five minutes and then go see how he's getting on."

"What's today's itinerary?" Alan asked.

"First thing is for you to take John back to Thunderbird Five," Jeff told him. "Then we'll take things as they come. Virgil hasn't seen Thunderbirds One and Three yet…" He stopped. "It feels strange saying that."

"Are we taking him with us?" Alan asked.

Jeff shook his head. "No. Let him get used to the island first. The way he reacted in Thunderbird Two yesterday, I'm worried about how he'll react to Thunderbird Three. You can't exactly stop mid-flight and let him out for a breath of fresh air."

"Why did he do that?" Alan asked. "He's never suffered from claustrophobia or aerophobia before."

"Maybe he's suddenly developed brontoornithophobia," Gordon suggested.

His family looked at him in bewilderment.

"I'm not even going to try to pronounce that," John said, "let alone understand it. What's that?"

"Fear of Thunderbirds," Gordon explained.

"He didn't have any problems with Thunderbird Four," Alan reminded him.

"Just means he's got taste," Gordon said smugly, "and hasn't got hydrophobia."

"Thank heavens for that," Scott exclaimed. "I couldn't cope with him having rabies as well."

"What's the term for having a phobia of phobias?" John asked. "Because I think I'm getting it."

"Phobophobia," Gordon told him.

John groaned.

Someone new entered the dining room. "Hi," Virgil said shyly. 

Gordon stood and held a chair out for him. "Grab a seat."

"Thanks," Virgil sat down and looked at the people about him. "Don't let me interrupt you. What were you talking about?"

"Phobias," Gordon blithely told him.

"And we'd finished that conversation," Jeff said warningly. "How are you feeling this morning, Virgil?"

Virgil shrugged. "Physically… fine."

"What would you like to eat, Dear?" his grandmother asked him.

"Oh… Ah. I don't know. Whatever you give me will be fine, thank you."

This morning's meal was more relaxed than its predecessor.

* * *

Everyone assembled in the lounge when it was time for Thunderbird Three's departure. Before he headed into the room, John made a point of saying goodbye to Virgil. "You make sure everything's back to normal by the time I get back, okay." 

Virgil nodded. "I'll work on it."

"Good." John gave his younger brother an uncertain smile. "Look, it feels weird saying this, but give Scott a chance. He's not all that bad. You like him… we all do. He comes across as being bossy, but he's had to be… since Ma died..."

"John!" there was a call from the lounge.

"Coming!" John called in return. Then he turned back to Virgil. "I haven't got time to explain now, but give him time. You'll learn to like him again." He gave the smile again. "If you want to talk, get someone to show you how to operate the communicator… I should have done so myself. I invented it."

"You did?" Virgil asked, amazed.

John looked at him sadly. "You helped me with the assembly… I…" he caught himself. "I'll see you in three weeks. Take care."

"You too, John."

John joined Scott and Alan on the couch. Surprised at this development, Virgil went and stood beside Gordon who was leaning against Jeff's desk.

"Have you got everything, John?" Jeff asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. We'll see you in three weeks then. Have a good trip, Boys."

Virgil was startled to see the couch suddenly disappear into the floor. Gordon grinned at him. "If you think that's funny, wait till you see how you board Thunderbird Two when you're going to pilot her." 

"Where did they go?"

"There's an access tunnel that runs under half the island to the Round House. C'mon," Gordon led the way onto the patio. From there the Round House was visible on the skyline. "It'll take them about five minutes to get ready."

"Why the Round House?" Virgil asked.

"You'll see."

They waited patiently. Eventually they heard Jeff give the clearance for launch. He joined them on the patio.

The roar of the sound waves reached them slightly after their first glimpse of Thunderbird Three. She powered upwards through the Round House, straight as an arrow, on an unerring course to her target.

Virgil watched open mouthed. He was still watching when Thunderbird Three was little more than a speck in the sky. When he eventually looked back down both Jeff and Gordon were watching him in amusement. 

"Did you like that?" Jeff asked.

"Uh, huh," Virgil articulated. "That was… amazing." He looked at Gordon. "It must be fantastic to fly in. Is it?"

"It's alright," Gordon replied laconically. "But I've found if you've been in one spaceship, you've been in them all. Now if you want real excitement you've gotta go in a submarine… But you'd probably prefer Thunderbird Two…"

"Hold on, Gordon," Jeff said cautiously.

"Could I?" Virgil asked eagerly

"What?" Jeff asked.

"Could Gordon take me for a flight in Thunderbird Two?"

"Are you sure about this, Virgil?"

Virgil was nodding vigorously. "That's if Gordon doesn't mind."

"I don't mind. What do you think, Dad?"

"Well… Okay. But I'm coming with you."

"Good," Gordon said. "You can take him down in the passenger lift."

"I'll let your Grandmother know where we're going," Jeff said. "You can prep Thunderbird Two while you're waiting for us."

"Which pod?" Gordon asked.

"She's already over pod four, so we may as well use that."

"Right," Gordon strode over to the painting of the rocket and stood with his back to it. "See you down there, Virgil."

"Okay…" Virgil started to say and was stunned when Gordon tipped backwards and slid off the painting. He frowned.

"What's wrong, Virgil?" Jeff saw his expression.

"I don't know. I had a strange feeling…"

"Déjà vu?" Jeff asked hopefully.

Virgil's frown deepened before he shrugged. "I don't know. It's gone now."

Jeff activated the in-house intercom and his mother's voice was heard. "Yes, Jeff?"

"Gordon, Virgil and I are going for a flight in Thunderbird Two. We won't be long."

"Thank you, Darling. Have a good trip."

Jeff straightened and looked at Virgil. "Ready?"

Virgil nodded eagerly and then looked askance at the painting. Jeff chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll go the more traditional way, there's an elevator over here." He led the way to the concealed doors. 

Gordon was in uniform when they arrived. He was also seated at the controls. Virgil cautiously stepped off the lift's platform and looked around. He was glad to note that he wasn't experiencing any of the violent reactions he'd felt yesterday.

Jeff watched him closely and relaxed when he realised that his son didn't appear to be under any stress. "Sit here, Virgil, and put on your safety harness." Virgil looked at Gordon and managed a grin. 

Gordon got the message. "Standard safety practice," he reminded him. "I can fly Thunderbird Two okay, can't I, Dad?"

Jeff was tempted to make a flippant comment but decided that it would be wiser to be honest. "You're perfectly capable, Gordon."

"Thank you."

"But you're not as good as Virgil was."

Gordon turned to look at his parent. "Well thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Just stating a fact. And it's also a fact that no one can pilot Thunderbird Four as well as you."

Mollified, Gordon's face broke into a big smile. "That goes without saying."

"I really used to fly this plane?" Virgil asked.

"Yep. No one could handle her better," Gordon said. "Not even Scott, and you couldn't get a better pilot than Scott."

Jeff agreed.

"All set?" Gordon asked.

"Yes," Virgil said eagerly.

"All set," Jeff confirmed.

"Right. Off we go." Gordon started giving a commentary on the procedures. Just as Scott had done the day before… "All systems are green…" He checked the radar. "We're clear… Now to move onto the runway… We open the hangar door…"

Jeff surreptitiously watched Virgil for any signs of discomfort. There were none.

Virgil watched fascinated as the great door ahead of them swung outwards and the sun streamed into the hanger.

Thunderbird Two moved forwards. The palm trees fell backwards and bounced gently. Virgil uttered a small exclamation and turned to Jeff with a questioning look. 

"It's part of our camouflage," Jeff explained. "With the palms standing the runway is too narrow for a plane as big as Thunderbird Two. It's all part of our cover."

Virgil experienced that uneasy feeling again. It was a feeling that was forgotten when Thunderbird Two stopped its forward momentum and started tilting upwards towards the sky. Now Virgil was feeling the thrill of anticipation. 

"Prepare for launch," Gordon commanded and Virgil felt the power of Thunderbird Two's aft jets burst into life. Then he felt gravity force him back into his seat as the mighty craft left the ground at speed.

Gordon took them to 1500 metres and switched to hover mode. He turned in his seat. "How was that?"

"That," Virgil said with feeling, "was amazing."

Gordon winked at his father. "That's nothing compared to how you used to feel about her."

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked in confusion.

"He means you're just as bad as your brothers," Jeff told him. "In your case no other craft could better Thunderbird Two in usefulness, reliability or flexibility."

"For some strange reason you thought Thunderbird Two is the best looking craft too…" Gordon chipped in. "Though I can't see it myself."

"I did?"

"You did."

Virgil turned to look back at Jeff for confirmation, but the older man just chuckled.

"Take a look outside," Gordon offered.

Virgil fumbled with the catch on his safety harness for a moment, before releasing himself and standing up. He walked over to a window and looked out. Far below him he could make out the irregular dot that was Tracy Island. He could also see a few neighbouring islands, but little else in the way of landmass. He suddenly felt very isolated. 

"Where are we again?" he asked.

"In Thunderbird Two," Gordon said with a frown.

"I realise that. I meant which ocean is it?"

"Oh!" Gordon's frown cleared. "South Pacific."

"South Pacific," Virgil repeated as he looked back out the window. "That's a big body of water."

"It's ideal for our purposes," Jeff explained. "We rarely get any aircraft or shipping going past."

Virgil felt that uneasy feeling return.

"Let me show you what she can do," Gordon said brightly. "I won't do anything fancy, just give you an idea of her speed, so you can stay standing there."

Virgil watched as Tracy Island slipped away from beneath them. As the place he'd been told was home disappeared so did the uneasy feeling. He was starting to get a real sensation of speed as the angle of the sun changed. He remained glued to the window in fascination, watching the world pass by. Then he felt Thunderbird Two's angle change and he turned back into the cabin to see Gordon rotate the control yoke slightly. They were returning back to base. 

Jeff saw him watching the pilot. "If you want a closer look, I'm sure Gordon won't mind."

Gordon glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah, sure. You can hang onto my seat."

Virgil did as he was instructed and watched how the various gauges and readouts responded to Gordon's slightest command. For a moment he felt envious. Why couldn't he do that? Then he remembered that he'd been told that he could fly this plane… That he did have the skills… 

So why couldn't he remember?

They were coming in low and slow over Tracy Island. "Would all passengers please return to their seats and fasten their safety belts," Gordon intoned.

Virgil did as he was instructed.

The landing was smooth and precise. Gordon was about to send the plane backwards into its hangar when he had an idea. "Do you want to taxi her in?"

Virgil wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "What?"

"Do you want to put her away in her hangar? There's nothing to it."

"Are you sure?" Virgil asked.

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't. Come on!" Gordon relinquished the pilot's seat.

Virgil didn't need a second telling. He slipped into the seat and looked about him. "Now what?"

Gordon pointed out a lever. "That's reverse. The further back you pull it, the faster you'll go… And those two gauges show you where you are in relation to the sides of the runway. Lasers will guide you in, so there's no chance of going off course."

"How will I know when to stop?"

"See this light here," Gordon pointed it out. "That'll come on when you're in position."

"How much leeway will I have?"

"Heaps."

"And I just steer with the steering wheel?"

"Yep."

Virgil gripped the control yoke. "Ready?"

"Ready when you are."

"Okay… Here we go…" Thunderbird Two started to reverse.

Virgil took no notice as the scenery slowly slipped by. His full concentration was on the gauges and lights in front of him. A couple of times he corrected his course, but otherwise had little trouble. Eventually the light telling him to stop was ignited. He pushed the reverse lever forward and Thunderbird Two halted. Now he took the time to look outside and was somewhat surprised to realise that they were inside the hangar. 

Gordon clapped him on the back. "How was that?"

Virgil sat back and gave him a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "That was fantastic!"

Gordon gave him a smile in return and winked at their father.

* * *

John checked out the interior of Thunderbird Five. "Looks okay. I haven't had any unexpected visitors popping in." 

"Who were you expecting?" Alan asked. "Your local alien?"

"You never know," John grinned.

As Alan returned to Thunderbird Three, John turned to his older brother. Scott was looking decidedly unhappy. "What's up, Scott?"

"I… I wish you didn't have to come back here this time."

"This time? Does that mean you've been glad to see the back of me every other time?"

"No," Scott managed a wry grin, "of course not. It's just… I've appreciated the support you've given me these last couple of days."

John looked at him sympathetically. "Well if you want to talk, you know where I'll be. It's not as if I'll be heading out on a hot date or something."

Scott chuckled. "Thanks, John. I appreciate that."

"In the meantime, go back, take him for a ride in Thunderbird Two, show him how good his plane is, and you'll probably find that everything'll be fine between the pair of you."

"Yeah…" Scott decided that he needed a more positive outlook. "Yes! You're right. I'm worrying unnecessarily again."

"Of course you are. Now get going and give him a ride he'll remember until he gets his memory back and thinks of something better."

Scott was still chuckling as he walked down the connecting tunnel that led to Thunderbird Three.

* * *

After an uneventful flight home, the oldest and youngest Tracy son emerged through the floor into the lounge of the Tracy Villa. 

"Any problems?" Jeff asked.

"I think John was hoping to find some company onboard Thunderbird Five," Alan told him, "and was disappointed when there wasn't anyone."

"Company?" Virgil asked.

"He was hoping some alien had popped in for a coffee,"

Virgil frowned in confusion.

"It was a joke," Alan explained. "What have you guys been up to? Had a good morning?"

"Brilliant!" Virgil told him. "Gordon took me for a ride in Thunderbird Two."

Scott was stretching after being cramped up on the couch for the last couple of minutes. "He did what?" His face fell.

Virgil was still on something of a high after his trip, and didn't notice. "He let me back it into the hangar too."

"You enjoyed that, huh?" Alan asked.

Virgil nodded emphatically. "It was fantastic! How fast did we go, Gordon?"

Gordon had noticed Scott's reaction. "3000 kilometres per hour," he said with considerably less enthusiasm.

"Amazing," Virgil said. "I would never have thought that any plane could go that fast. Especially one that looks as un-aerodynamic as that."

"It'll go faster," Alan told him.

"Alan," Jeff said, "why don't you and Virgil go and tell your Grandmother and Kyrano you're back and see what's for lunch."

"Okay," Alan agreed. "Come on, Virgil. You can tell me about your trip." Virgil followed him talking excitedly. The rest of their family remained silent until they were out of earshot. Gordon was the first to speak. "I'm sorry, Scott. I didn't think! He was that enthusiastic after seeing Thunderbird Three launch, that I thought he'd like a flight in Thunderbird Two." 

"He obviously did," Scott said quietly as he prodded at a loose thread in the back of the couch.

"I was worried about how he was going to react during the flight," Jeff admitted. "I didn't remember that you'd promised to take him today."

"It's okay," Scott said dully. "Gordon's Thunderbird Two's co-pilot. It's his job to fly Two when Virgil's not available. I was overstepping the mark when I said I'd take him yesterday."

"No you weren't," Gordon protested.

"Don't worry about it," Scott said to him. "It's only one flight. There'll be others… If you'll excuse me," he looked at his watch, "I've got a few minutes before lunch. I think I'll put in some time in the gym… Give me a call when lunch is ready, Gordon."

"Not a problem," Gordon said unhappily.


	9. Nine

** Nine**

Virgil was startled, firstly to hear an alarm go off, and secondly to see everyone run at speed in the direction of the lounge. Heart pounding he followed. When he reached the room he was surprised to see them calmly regarding the row of portraits.

He was even more surprised to see that one of the portraits had come to life.

"John?"

He was ignored.

He recovered enough to realise that one of his family had taken up position between two light fittings. His afternoon of surprises was clearly not complete as the wall swallowed up Scott before his eyes. Virgil was so shocked by this apparition, that Gordon tilting out of sight barely made an impact on him. 

Alan, followed by Tin-Tin, ran over to the concealed doors that hid the passenger lift and disappeared from sight.

Virgil, not for the first time, felt an uneasy feeling. As he tried to analyse exactly what it was that was troubling him, he didn't notice a roaring sound from outside the building, muffled by the glass patio doors. By the time the sound had permeated his brain and he'd thought to turn and see what was happening, all he could see was what he assumed to be sea mist.

He looked back at the portraits. Now Scott's portrait had become a live video feed. As he watched Scott glanced into the camera and then returned his attention to piloting the craft under his control.

Then the eyes in Gordon's portrait started flashing and Gordon joined his brothers and father in conversation. In shot, behind Gordon, Virgil could see Alan. It looked odd to see the middle portrait static as the three surrounding it moved and communicated.

Virgil wondered if his portrait had ever come to life, if he'd ever used it to communicate with anyone. With an effort he brought his attention back to the conversation that was occurring between Jeff and his sons. 

"How far behind are you, Gordon?" Scott asked.

"I'm still in the hangar, Scott," Gordon replied. "Our radar picked up an unidentified craft shortly after you left."

"I didn't register anything," Scott said with a faint tinge of alarm.

"It was coming from due south," Gordon reassured him. "You were off the scope by the time we saw him. They had no chance of seeing you."

"Good," Scott said briefly. "Are you clear yet?"

"Nearly…" Gordon was clearly concentrating on some bit of equipment. "There! He's gone. Leaving hangar now."

"Concentrate on what you're doing, Boys," Jeff said. "Call me when you've got further information."

He received a "F-A-B" in triplicate and then all three men disappeared, to be replaced by their impassive photos once again.

Jeff turned in his chair and started as if surprised to see Virgil standing there. "Did you see Thunderbird One launch?" he asked.

Virgil shook his head wordlessly.

"If you're quick you'll see Thunderbird Two take off. She'll be getting ready at the end of the runway." Jeff unlocked the patio doors and led the way out into the bright sunlight. "There she is," he pointed.

Virgil stood by his side and watched as the green plane taxied sluggishly down the runway. From here, the only indication he had of its great size was from the palm trees, which had fallen back. He watched the plane stop near the end of the runway and then tilt upwards. After a suspenseful moment's wait there was a bright flash from the rear of the craft and it was powering skywards. A short time later he heard the roar of Thunderbird Two's jets. 

"What did you think?" Jeff asked.

Virgil was still gazing into the distance; following the path of the plane that he'd been told was 'his'. "Okay I guess. I preferred flying in it."

Jeff chuckled. "That sounds like you. Though you were never happy having someone else fly you in Thunderbird Two."

Virgil continued to watch Thunderbird Two disappear into the distance. "They will be careful, won't they?"

"Of course they will," Jeff tried to reassure them, relieved that his son appeared to be showing genuine concern. "They always are."

"Always?" Virgil asked. "Look at what happened to me."

"We don't know what happened to you," Jeff reminded him gently. "But whatever it was, I would lay odds on that it wasn't your fault." They turned to go back inside. "How are you coping, Virgil?"

Virgil shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I don't have much option, do I?"

"No. I guess not..." Jeff returned to his desk, but didn't sit in his chair. He looked at his middle son. "Look. I'm going to ask you to do something, that I probably have no right to ask, since, in effect, you don't know me from Adam."

"Huh," Virgil frowned. "Who's Adam?"

Jeff gave a little smile. "It's a figure of speech."

"Oh," Virgil's frown cleared. "I knew that. I'm sorry, I guess my brain's overloaded at the moment. What do you want me to do?"

"Give Scott a chance. You two have always been close. I don't expect you to be best friends straight away, but if you could try to get to know him better, I know you'll like him."

Virgil was silent.

Jeff sat on the edge of his desk. "To tell you the truth, I've often wondered why you two get on so well. You're two totally different personalities, and there's enough of an age difference to keep you separated… I have a theory though…"

Virgil listened politely.

"After your mother died, I suddenly found that I had to care for five young boys, largely alone, until your Grandmother moved in with us. It was a daunting prospect, but I was determined to keep the six of us together." Jeff stopped and thought. "It wasn't easy those first few years. Both Alan and Gordon were little more than babies and needed plenty of attention, which meant you three older boys had to take the back seat a lot of the time, especially while I was working on making the company viable. Scott and John were both old enough that they were able to look out for themselves to a certain extent. But you… you were old enough that you didn't need the constant care of your younger brothers, but you weren't old enough to be independent. I tried to give you, all of you, the time you deserved, but it seemed that, every time, either Alan would start crying or Gordon would fall over and hurt himself."

Virgil waited while Jeff thought about what he was going to say next.

"It was at this time that Scott decided to take you under his wing. He'd spend time with you, make sure you were washed and dressed, help you with your schooling, teach you things that I wish I had had the time to teach you. Do you know, and I've never told anyone this, I was actually slightly jealous of Scott?"

"Jealous?" Virgil asked.

Jeff nodded. "Yes. I remember one day you came home excited because you'd been picked for the basketball team at school. But it wasn't your father you wanted to tell first; it was your big brother. It made me realise what a close relationship you two had. And that yours and mine wasn't as close as I would've liked."

Virgil suddenly felt sorry for him.

"As you got older Scott would take you to your music lessons. Not only that, he'd stay with you. There's not too many teenage boys who'd be willing to do that. He always said that it was because it gave him some time away from Alan and Gordon and he was able to concentrate on his homework. I think he genuinely liked sharing your lessons with you and listening to you practice.

"Later, when Scott was training to get his pilot's license, you'd spend hours with him, testing him on the theoretical questions. He had the natural aptitude for flying itself; you won't find a more gifted pilot; but he found the more mundane aspects a bit of a challenge. He was always too impatient to get into the skies. It was your patience and willingness to help him that helped him gain his wings. It had the positive spin-off too, that when you decided you wanted to get your pilot's license, you were already well grounded in the theory.

"In fact," Jeff continued on, "it's your piloting abilities that say as much about your similarities and differences as anything. Scott's an intuitive flyer. That's what makes him able to handle Thunderbird One with such ease. He knows instinctively what's going to happen and reacts accordingly. You tend to be more… reasoned. You analyse what you are going to do and why. You're still an amazing pilot… the things you could get Thunderbird Two to do, things that I would have thought impossible… but your abilities are based on rational thought, not instinct. And… if you tell anyone this I'll deny it… if I had to get to hospital in a hurry, and had to choose between you or Scott flying me there, I'd choose you. Scott would get me there quicker, but I'd have a more comfortable flight with you."

"But you wouldn't choose me now, would you," Virgil noted.

Jeff's expression saddened slightly. "No I wouldn't…" He stood suddenly, eager to change the topic. "I've got something to show you. I'll let John know where we'll be and then we'll go through to your studio." He reinstated the link to Thunderbird Five.

"Dad," John acknowledged. "Hiya, Virgil. "How're you enjoying the rescue? Are you bored yet?"

Virgil smiled. "I'm not bored, but I can't say a rescue's very exciting."

"No. Well Scott's still five minutes away from the danger zone. Not that he'll be able to do much until Thunderbird Two arrives and that'll be at least 30 minutes later. He'll get the logistics worked out and decide on a plan of action while he's waiting."

"He gives the orders does he?" Virgil asked John.

"Yes. And he's the best man for the job. I wouldn't want it, but he thrives on it."

"I can believe that," Virgil said dryly. "Is this the communication system you invented?"

"Yep. What do you think?"

"Impressive."

"Thanks."

"I'm going to show Virgil the Traceset, John. When you have news you can get me on my watch."

"Sure thing, Dad," John replied. "The Traceset's a good idea. He'll love it."

"He did before," Jeff agreed. "Let me know as soon has you've heard from Scott."

"F-A-B."

"F-A-B?" Virgil asked. "What's that?"

"You tell him, Dad," John said. "You coined it."

"Thanks, John. We'll talk to you soon." As soon as John's portrait reverted to normal Jeff began walking towards the door. "F-A-B, means that the message is understood and going to be actioned. The letters don't mean anything. I wanted something unique and I knew you boys would like something that sounded a bit mysterious and would keep the world guessing. It's certainly done that. The number of suggestions I've seen in the press…" He stopped at a cupboard and removed a large box. "This is a Traceset. Would you mind if we set it up in your studio?"

"I don't know what it is," Virgil noted, "but I don't see why not."

Once in the studio Jeff opened the box. Interested, Virgil looked inside. It appeared to be a jumble of bits of metal, in various sizes and shapes, some solid, some seemingly riddled with holes.

Jeff started removing a few of the bits from the box. "Back when my company was first starting out it was called Tracy Engineering. Naively my partner and I thought that since a famous astronaut headed the firm, people would be knocking on our door to give us work… It didn't happen."

"Who was the famous astronaut?" Virgil asked.

"Me."

"You?" Virgil stared at the other man.

Jeff nodded. "I walked on the moon before they started turning it into a tourist trap. It was a novelty then. While I was still with the Space Agency I was paraded everywhere as if I were something special. Then your mother died and I left the Agency… No one wanted to know me after that. I went from hero to zero in a matter of weeks."

"What's it like on the moon?"

"Grey, cold and dusty. The best thing about it was the view of the Earth. That was my first real understanding of how fragile life is… My second was your mother's accident."

"What was her name?"

"Lucille."

"Lucille," Virgil repeated. "It's a beautiful name."

"She was a beautiful lady. She meant the world to me… to all of us. She gave me five wonderful sons and I'm proud of them all."

Virgil suddenly felt very inadequate. In order to cover his awkwardness he held up a piece of Traceset. "So what do you do with this?"

"You join the pieces together to make things."

"Such as?"

"Whatever you feel like making. I got the idea from a similar set my grandfather had when he was a boy. As I was saying here we were, two owners, a company, staff, building, machinery and no work. We were haemorrhaging money. I was desperate. Then I remembered this toy of my grandfathers. One night I created a few pieces and then I took them home. I figured that if my five energetic sons enjoyed playing with it, then I was onto a winner."

"And…?" Virgil asked.

"And, you all loved it. So we went into production. It was never a huge seller, but it kept the wolf from the door, and gave us a foot in the marketplace. Parents would buy it for their children and then want to deal with its creators on their own projects."

Virgil looked at the box of metal and wondered what was so special about its contents.

"Here," Jeff took the piece that Virgil was holding and held it next to the piece in his own hand. "You fasten two pieces together with a bolt to create a longer piece, or if you prefer an angle. You can attach wheels," Jeff pulled one out of the box and attached it, "or sprockets, or gears," he pulled examples of each item out of the box. "It's down to your imagination what you can do."

Virgil was looking slightly confused.

"Scott always made a 'plane of some description. John would try to make a telescope, so I cannibalised an old pair of binoculars," Jeff retrieved a box and opened it, pulling out a drawstring bag. He tipped the contents onto his hand – four circular glass lenses. "Gordon would try to make a submarine or a boat and then complain that they would sink," he chuckled. "Alan always made racing cars and then would tear about the place wrecking the furniture."

Virgil waited expectantly.

"But I never knew what you were going to make. You'd make any of those things or something completely unexpected. I remember, once you'd been on a school trip to the construction site for a road tunnel. You came home and built a machine for drilling 'tunnels'. You built a body on wheels and put a series of gears, of decreasing size, on the front and said it was actually a screw for drilling. That was where the basic idea for The Mole came from."

"The Mole?"

"We haven't shown you that yet, have we? It's International Rescue's drilling machine. Slightly more effective than what you designed with this, but still the same basic principal." Jeff looked about in the box. "There's a wrench in here somewhere."

"Wrench?"

Jeff held up the tool. "Do you want me to show you how it works?"

"Yes, please."

Jeff realised that he'd been hoping that Virgil wouldn't need his assistance. He pushed down his feeling of disappointment. "Let's tip everything onto the floor. I wanted to show you in here, because you can leave your project unfinished, go do something else, come back, and you won't have upset your grandma with the mess."

Virgil smiled, but made no comment as the pieces of the Traceset were strewn onto the floor of the studio.

Jeff looked at his watch. "I'm going to check in with John and see where Scott is. I'll be back in a moment, unless you want to come with me and see what's going on?"

"Didn't John say Thunderbird Two wouldn't be there for some time?"

"That's right."

"I'll wait till they get there. I'd like to try this Traceset out."

"Okay, Virgil. I'll be back shortly." Jeff was true to his word. "Scott's arrived. He's evaluating the situation now."

"What's happened?"

"A car's gone over a bluff and is stranded half way down. There's at least two people trapped on board."

"Tricky?"

"Could be. Depends on how secure the car is. Scott will have all the information they need and a plan formed by the time Thunderbird Two arrives."

"What do you normally do while all this is going on?" Virgil asked.

"Me? I stay here and worry about you all." Jeff sat on the floor beside Virgil. "How far have you got?"

Virgil showed him. He'd attached wheels to a platform.

"What are you making?"

"I have no idea," Virgil replied. "I'm only fiddling at the moment."

"Let me show you how a gear works," Jeff offered. Efficiently he assembled the chain and gear mechanism. "See?"

"I see!" Virgil exclaimed. "You could use gears to link a variety of wheels together so they won't move independently!"

"That's one application. See what others you can find."

Virgil smiled, delighted by the discovery. "I think I like the idea of you being my father."

Stunned by the statement Jeff wasn't sure how to reply. Virgil didn't notice. "What do I normally call you?" he asked, glancing up at Jeff and then back down at his project. "Scott calls you Father and the others call you Dad." 

"What do you call me? Usually Father, occasionally Dad."

Virgil concentrated on adding a gear mechanism to his machine. They spent a companionable fifteen minutes working on individual projects, Jeff occasionally stopping to give Virgil some advice. He eventually stiffly stretched out his legs. "The floor's not as soft as it used to be," he grumbled. 

"How's that for a first attempt?" Virgil proudly held up his contraption.

Jeff tried not to think that this was far from Virgil's first attempt at using the Traceset. "Looks good." He took it from his son to examine it closer. "Ah… What is it?"

"A plane… I think."

"Why have you got hooks on the top?" Jeff asked.

Virgil frowned. "I don't know. I thought they should go there. I don't know why…"

There was a beeping sound from Jeff's watch. "That's John telling me that Thunderbird Two's arrived." Jeff climbed back to his feet, grunting as he did so. "It was a lot easier getting off the floor when you were boys. Are you com…?"

Virgil was already on his feet.

"How's it look, Scott?" Gordon asked as he steered Thunderbird Two towards the danger zone.

"Precarious. I've sent the Aerovideo to keep an eye on things. The local rescue authorities have managed to get a man down there. There's two trapped inside the car, both badly injured. He's doing all he can, but he can only reach one of the victims. The car's too unstable to risk him climbing inside or across."

"What's the plan?"

"Lower Alan down to the other side of the car. He can assess the situation, especially the condition of the second victim and guide the grabs. I think you should be able to use the Grav-Weight to stabilise the vehicle before you use the grabs to bring it up to the top of the cliff again."

"F-A-B. Approaching now."

Scott stood up from his seat at Mobile Control and shielded his eyes against the sun as he watched Thunderbird Two swoop in. He raised his microphone. "Bring her in low, Vir…" he started to say and then stopped. "Sorry, Gordon."

"That's okay. I'd rather he was in the pilot's seat myself…"

Already in his protective suit, Alan stared out the windows down into the canyon. He gave a low whistle. "Look at that drop!"

Tin-Tin stood at his shoulder. "You'll be careful won't you, Alan?"

He gave her an assured smile. "Sure. No sweat." He looked back out the window. "There's the car. Must be at least 35 metres down. They were lucky they didn't fall all the way."

"They won't be feeling lucky," Tin-Tin noted. "Not until you've got them to safety."

"Come on," Alan said. "Time to get kitted up... See you soon, Gordon," he called over his shoulder.

"'kay," Gordon replied, his concentration focused on getting Thunderbird Two into position.

They both made their way down to the winch room where Alan strapped himself into his harness and then waited patiently as Tin-Tin double-checked that all was secure. He in turn checked that her safety harness was correctly worn and attached to Thunderbird Two by a lifeline.

"Are you okay with this?" he asked.

She nodded reluctantly. "I hope I don't do anything wrong."

"Relax. Gordon's got the hard job keeping Thunderbird Two in position. Just make sure that you lower me down steadily. Don't slam on the brakes." He gave her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. "You'll be fine, Honey. This job's a piece of cake. We'll be home before you know it."

"We're in position," Gordon announced over the intercom.

"F-A-B," Alan replied before turning back to Tin-Tin. "Ready?"

"Yes, Alan."

The temperature in the winch-room dropped several degrees as the wind whistled past the panel that opened in the floor.

"Lower me down." Alan stepped out into nothingness. He kept up a running commentary as the winch lowered him down towards the stricken car. "Glad the wind's not too strong. The ledge the car's on doesn't look too stable. It's not that big either." His words were transmitted back up to the winch-room and cockpit on Thunderbird Two and to Mobile Control. From there they were sent further afield to Thunderbird Five and halfway around the world to Tracy Island. Alan had an audience of eight.

"Nearly there," he continued on. "Slow down, Tin-Tin… Half speed… Half again… Get ready to brake… Touchdown!" he felt the comforting solidarity of the metre wide ledge. A small remote camera, the size of a model plane, zoomed in close. "Get that Aerovideo out of my face, Scott!"

"Don't undo your harness," Scott warned. "I want you tethered to Thunderbird Two at all times."

"I won't," Alan tried to make it sound like a statement, rather than a grumble. "Hi, there," he greeted the local rescuer who was on the opposite side of the car to him. "My name's Alan."

The other man seemed surprised at the unexpected introduction. "Oh, ah… Mine's Benny."

"Pleased to meet you, Benny." Without touching the car, Alan bent to look inside. "How are they?"

"Not good. I've managed to get an IV into this one, but I can't reach the other."

"Right. We'll stabilise the car first and then see what we can do about our victims." Alan carefully placed a small plaque on the boot of the car and then redirected his comments to his microphone. "Tin-Tin, I've positioned the locator. Home in on that and send the Grav-Weight down."

Up in Thunderbird Two, Tin-Tin understood. "F-A-B, Alan."

As they waited Alan took stock of the situation. "Do we know their names?"

"No," Benny shook his head. "No one's reported them missing and, of course, I haven't been able to search for I.D."

"Well, we'll worry about that later." Alan looked up. A flat plate, about half the size of the bonnet, was being lowered towards them, zeroing in on the signal given out by the tiny electronic transmitter Alan had placed on the boot.

Benny wondered what this Grav-Weight was meant to do. It looked too small and flimsy to be much use.

Alan watched closely as the Grav-Weight drew closer and closer to its target. "Five metres, Tin-Tin."

Thunderbird Two gave a lurch upwards! It wasn't much, only a metre or so, but it was enough to sweep Alan up into the air and knock Tin-Tin off her feet. 

Scott watched Alan's sudden flight anxiously through the picture transmitted by the Aerovideo. He grabbed the microphone, "Alan…! Gordon!"

Back on Tracy Island, his yell brought the lounge's occupants to their feet. "Jeff!" Mrs Tracy gasped. 

"Hang on, Mother. I'll contact John and see what's going on."

Virgil closed his eyes, hoping that more misfortune hadn't hit this family. He struggled to picture Gordon, Alan, Tin-Tin… and Scott.

Dangling helplessly underneath Thunderbird Two, Alan was echoing his oldest brother. "Gordon!"

Up in Thunderbird Two Gordon heard the twin exclamations as he uttered a mild curse. "Are you okay, Alan?"

"Yeah I am. What happened?"

"Wind gust," Gordon admitted briefly. "Hang on. I'll lower her down again."

"Are you okay, Tin-Tin?" Alan asked.

Tin-Tin was lying on the floor of the winch-room. Her upper torso was hanging over the opening and she was looking down to the canyon floor, seemingly miles below. It was only the lifeline that had stopped her from plummeting into the depths of the canyon and certain death. She struggled to her feet. "I'm okay," she gasped.

Keeping a careful eye on the altimeter, Gordon lowered Thunderbird Two the required metre to bring Alan back down to the ledge.

"Are you okay?" Benny asked anxiously.

"Yep," Alan said nonchalantly. "These replacement pilots." He indicated upwards and chuckled as if it were some kind of joke. "Continue lowering the Grav-Weight, Tin-Tin."

Benny looked up at the bulk of Thunderbird Two suspended over them. "Trainee?" he asked nervously.

Alan realised that he'd worried the man unnecessarily. "Our regular pilot's got… is on sick leave. Don't worry. Gordon's an experienced pilot. He knows what he's doing."

The Grav-Weight had nearly reached its goal.

"Take it slow, Tin-Tin," Alan ordered. "Let it down a notch… Now another… One more… Contact!" With a 'chink' rather than a 'clunk' the Grav-Weight settled on the boot of the car. "Activate gravity field."

Tin-Tin threw a switch and a low frequency hum emanated from the Grav-Weight. Benny watched in astonishment as the car settled backwards. Suddenly the situation seemed to be less precarious… if you didn't take into account the front wheels hanging over the edge of the ledge.

"That should hold it for a little bit," Alan said and opened the rear door of the car. He climbed inside and began to check the unattended victim.

"How safe is it?" Benny asked.

"Safe enough for one of us to clamber about inside," Alan told him. "If you could stand back and let me know if there's any sign the ledge is going to collapse. I'm glad to see you've still got your safety line on."

"What are you going to do?"

"Get an I.V. into this guy and then get the next stage in their evacuation underway." Alan was delving into his first-aid kit.

He'd soon completed his task and climbed out of the car again. He looked at Benny. "I think we'll get you out of the way for this next bit. Can you tell your team to pull you up?"

"Thank you for your help," Benny said gratefully before radioing the message to those waiting at the top of the cliff. Soon he was being dragged out of harm's way.

"Send down the grabs, Tin-Tin," Alan ordered and looked up to see a huge panel slide back in Thunderbird Two's undercarriage. A large claw mechanism was lowered through the hole.

"Hold her still, Gordon," Scott instructed.

The grabs were opening slowly as they continued their decent. Alan kept a wary eye on them. They were big, much bigger than him, and the slightest nudge from one of the talons would send him spinning off the ledge. Worse would be if they nudged the car enough to tilt it on its axis and sent it the remainder of the way to the canyon floor. Even the Grav-Weight wouldn't be able to hold it.

Tin-Tin kept a steady hand on the grabs' controls. In contrast, Gordon kept a fierce grip on those belonging to Thunderbird Two. He was sweating under the strain and was keeping an almost obsessive watch on the various gauges.

"Steady, Tin-Tin," Alan intoned. "Slower… Slower… and… stop!"

"Will they sit under the body of the car, Alan?" Scott asked.

Alan crouched down to examine the clearance. "Should do." He stood back. "Okay. Everything's fine down here. Close the grabs slowly."

Tin-Tin did as she was told. With the screech of metal against metal, the end of the pincers slipped under the car, supporting it in the grabs firm grip like a giant hand clutching an egg.

"That's far enough," Alan said.

The grabs stopped closing.

"Activate magnetic field," Alan ordered.

Electromagnets on the end of each of the grabs' fingers hummed into life. There was now little chance of the car slipping.

"Retract Grav-Weight."

The plate on the boot released its grip and slid quickly back into Thunderbird Two's undercarriage.

"Give me a bit more slack, Tin-Tin," Alan instructed. "I'll ride up inside the car and keep an eye on our victims' condition."

"F-A-B, Alan."

"Is there any chance of the grabs slipping?" Scott asked. "I don't want you in there if there is."

"Nothing to worry about, Scott. Just remind Gordon to keep clear of the edge."

"I heard you, Alan, and don't worry. I know exactly where everything is."

"Good," Scott acknowledged. "Okay, Gordon. Alan's in the car. Lift away."

"F-A-B." Thunderbird Two began to rise higher into the sky.

"There's a clear area by th ambulance. Set it down there," Scott ordered.

"I see it."

"Once you've done that, Alan can release his harness, you can retract his lifeline and the grabs and then bring Thunderbird Two in to land on the playing field nor-nor-west of your position."

"Got it," Gordon stated.

"Did you understand that, Alan? Do not release your harness until the car is on the ground," Scott instructed.

"Understood," Alan said briefly.

"Tin-Tin. As soon I give the word, retract the grabs and Alan's harness. Once they're back on board, close all hatches."

"F-A-B, Scott."

Scott watched in satisfaction as Thunderbird Two easily lifted the car over the lip of the cliff and lowered it to the ground, precisely beside two waiting ambulances. "Okay, Alan. You can release your harness."

Alan did so, throwing his harness out the window and then turning his attention to the two victims.

"Retract harness and grabs," Scott ordered.

The harness snaked upwards on the end of its lifeline and the grabs opened fully, before they followed the harness back into Thunderbird Two's belly. Scott watched the hatches close behind them. "Gordon! You're cleared to land." He dropped his microphone into its holder in Mobile Control and locked the entire unit down. He then jogged over to where Alan was standing beside the car, ready to assist the paramedics who were assessing the two victims. "Good work, Alan."

"Thanks," Alan acknowledged.

Scott turned his attention back to the activity inside the car. "How do they look?"

"Not good. The driver wasn't wearing a seat belt. It's only the steering wheel that stopped him being thrown through the windscreen. It's also the steering wheel that's done the most damage."

"And the passenger?" Scott watched as a backboard was slipped behind the driver.

"Out cold. I couldn't give them enough of an examination to find out why."

Carefully the passenger was extracted from the car and onto a waiting stretcher.

Alan jumped when someone clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice one, Alan."

"Thanks, Gordon. I hope it was enough."

"Well done, Tin-Tin," Scott congratulated her as the driver was wheeled away.

"Thank you." She watched the departing ambulance. "Will they be all right?"

"We'll probably never know unless John picks up a radio message," Scott said. "But at least we've given them a chance…"

* * *

Later, after the evening meal, Gordon threw himself onto the couch. "That was a mission today. I'll tell you something, the Thunderbird Two simulator's no substitute for the real thing." 

"Want me to take you out for some test flights tomorrow?" Scott offered.

"I'd appreciate that," Gordon picked up the latest issue of a scuba diving magazine. "That wind gust caught me by surprise. Virgil would have compensated, without any problems."

Virgil chose that moment to wander into the room. "I would have compensated for what?"

"For that wind gust that lifted Thunderbird Two during the rescue."

"A wind gust was big enough to move a plane that size?" Virgil asked in amazement.

"This one was," Gordon opened his magazine.

Virgil looked about the room. Alan and Tin-Tin were sitting together on the balcony, talking and laughing quietly. They looked too intimate to consider joining them. Gordon was reading, as was Jeff. Scott and Brains were playing a game of… something. His grandmother was knitting, and Kyrano was pouring cups of coffee. "You all look relaxed," he said.

Gordon lowered his magazine. "Yep. We need it after a rescue. A chance to unwind."

"What do I usually do?"

"Oh, um," Gordon thought for a moment. "Draw, paint, play the piano, listen to music, read…"

"Oh," Virgil acknowledged and thought for a moment.

"What can't you remember, Virgil?" Gordon asked.

"How'd you know I'd forgotten something?"

"Because you've got two frowns. One says you're confused about something and the other says you've forgotten something. You've got your 'I've forgotten' frown on."

Virgil displayed a third frown, which showed that he wasn't very keen on the first two.

"So…" Alan said. He and Tin-Tin had decided that the evening air was a little cool and had come inside. "What have you forgotten?"

"What's a piano?"

The room froze. It was as if an icy chill had descended upon them all.

"You know, that's really annoying," Virgil said testily.

"What is?" Jeff asked.

"I ask what something is, or how do you do something and you all go quiet on me. I know I should know these things, but I don't know them and it's really frustrating when instead of telling me what I should know you all clam up."

"Sorry, Virgil. It's always a shock. We don't know what you know and when we realise that what you don't know is what we take for granted that you should know, then…" Alan frowned himself. "I don't know…" He petered off in confusion.

"Right! Now that that's cleared up," Virgil tried not to sound annoyed with them all, "will someone please tell me what a piano is?"

"That's the piano," Gordon told him. "The white thing over there." He pointed at the baby grand.

"Oh." Virgil wandered over and looked it. He circled it warily, touching it with caution.

"I've got a recording of you playing somewhere here…" Jeff was scrolling through his computer's database. "Ah, here it is," he set the music to play. Soon the familiar sounds of a piano filled the room.

"That's me?" Virgil asked, amazed.

"That's you," Jeff confirmed.

"Wow, I'm good!" Virgil couldn't help exclaiming.

His comment brought forth a gale of laughter from his family.

He frowned, hurt. "You're laughing at me!"

The laughter stopped.

"Sorry about that," Gordon apologised. "Sit on the stool and have a play."

Virgil sat as he was told. "How does it work?"

Gordon stood beside him. "Lift the lid. No, not the big one. The long one at the end."

Virgil gingerly swung the lid open. He looked at the keys. "Now what?"

"Press a key," Gordon told him.

"I can't see a key here. Where is it?"

"Press one of those black and white things."

Virgil pushed one and jumped when it emitted a sound. He pushed another, amazed at the note the came out. He pushed three together and a discordant noise ran through the room.

Mrs Tracy uttered a strangled sound and dropped her knitting. She departed the room at speed.

"Mother!" Jeff exclaimed and followed her out the door.

"What did I do?" Virgil asked. "Have I upset her again?"

"It's not your fault," Scott reassured him.

"No, but I'm the cause," Virgil sighed. "What did I do this time?"

"It was your piano playing, Virgil," Gordon told him sadly. "You love playing the piano. You're good at it, as you just heard." Everyone else nodded their agreement. "I guess that seeing you asking how to play was too much for her."

"Oh," Virgil was a downcast figure as he looked at the keyboard.

"Do you want to know how a piano works?" Gordon asked, hoping to cheer his brother up.

"I guess," Virgil said non-committedly.

"You press each key, or a combination of keys, to create a tune." Gordon played a scale woodenly. "I'm no good. Come on, Scott. You're Virgil's understudy."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Alan backed up Gordon.

"I'm not that good," Scott protested.

"I never said you were good. But you're better than the rest of us," Gordon told him. "Now get over here." He gave his big brother a meaningful stare.

"Thanks for the recommendation." Scott stood. "Will you excuse me a moment, Brains?"

"O-Of course," Brains acknowledged.

"I don't want to interrupt your game," Virgil told Scott as he vacated the piano stool.

"It's okay." Scott held his hands over the keys and then placed them back into his lap. "What should I play?"

"One Virgil's favourites?" Tin-Tin suggested.

"You've got to be kidding! That's way out of my league."

"The Th-Thunderbirds March," Brains suggested.

"Huh," Virgil said, recognising the name. "What's that?"

"Something you wrote for Father," Scott explained. "For International Rescue's launch."

"I'd like to hear it."

"Okay… How does it go? Do you have the music under here?" Scott lifted the lid on the piano stool and looked inside. He rifled through the sheet music. "Ah! Here it is." He pulled out a sheet of paper and examined it quickly. "I like the drawings you've done on here…"

"Quit stalling," Gordon told him. "Let's hear it."

"Okay. I'm warning you now, Virgil. I'm not very good."

"Oh, for Pete's sake. Just play it will you." Alan was sounding peeved.

"Right." Scott flexed his fingers, cracked his knuckles and began.

Virgil listened, fascinated, as the large white object projected a piece of music into the room. He stared at Scott with newfound respect.

After the last notes died away Scott looked up from the piano. "How was that? Terrible?"

"Not terrible," Gordon told him.

"Yeah. Just really bad," Alan added.

"Thanks," Scott said sarcastically.

"Don't listen to them, Scott," Tin-Tin told him. "You played very nicely."

"No, it was rubbish," Scott admitted. "Compared to how Virg… Virgil would play it, it was rubbish."

"I can play that?" Virgil asked. "Can you show me how?"

"Have a seat," Scott offered and removed himself from the piano stool. "We'll start with the basics. This key," he pointed at the keyboard, "is middle C."

"Why?"

"Oh, ah. It's the middle key on the keyboard, I guess."

Brains got up and quietly left the room.

"Why 'C'?"

"Well, there's seven basic notes. A, B, C, D, E, F and G, forming a scale…"

"But there's more than seven keys…"

Tin-Tin decided that she had something that she needed to do in her bedroom.

Scott continued gamely on. "See how the pattern of keys repeats itself? Each key has the same name as the equivalent key in the next octave…"

"Octave?"

"A group of those seven notes…"

"But you said seven notes? Wouldn't an octave be eight?"

Scott was beginning to feel out of his depth. Alan didn't help by following Tin-Tin out the door. "We'll forget all the theory, just remember that this key is A, this one's B, this is C…"

"What are the black ones?"

"Well… That one's C sharp, or D flat…"

"But they're not flat, they're raised higher than the white keys," Virgil felt a black key, "and it's not very sharp. And why have they got two names?"

"It's what they are called, okay," Scott struggled to maintain his patience. Gordon choosing to leave the room didn't aid his cause. He wished he could follow his brothers out the door.

"I'm sorry. I'm annoying you," Virgil said quietly.

"It's not your fault."

"But I'm the cause."

Scott clenched his jaw tightly to stop himself from screaming. "Look we'll forget about the black keys. We'll start with your scales. Place your thumb on middle C…"

Virgil did as he was told.

"Ah, better make that your right thumb."

Virgil changed hands.

"Keep your wrist level. Sit up straight. Feet flat on the floor… Elbow at right angle… Man! I sound like our music teacher!"

Vigil followed the instructions. It all felt natural to him.

"Good. Okay," Scott continued on. "Now play the note with your thumb… First finger… middle… ring… and little… Now reverse that."

Virgil played a scale.

"Good. Keep that up for a bit. Then try it with your other hand…"

"Where is everyone?" Virgil had suddenly noticed that the room was empty.

"I guess they had something else to do," Scott lied.

Virgil saw through the lie. "They didn't want to listen to me, did they? I've upset them."

"It's not your fau…" Scott decided he wasn't going to fall into the trap. "Don't worry about it, okay. Have some practise. Play the scales for a bit. Try them on different parts of the keyboard. When you've done that, see what you can play. You've got a musical ear and you might find that it comes naturally. I'll leave you to it."

"What are you going to do?" Virgil asked.

"I, ah, I'm going to head down to the gym. I'll come back and check on you shortly." With feelings that were one part relief and three parts guilt, Scott escaped.


	10. Ten

** Ten**

The sun was rising from behind the peak of Tracy Island casting an orange glow across the green of the tropical forest. Already the temperature was comfortably warm. Virgil was sitting on a bluff, looking wistfully out to sea. He felt no comfort as he remembered both the previous evening and the following night. Once again he'd been woken dramatically by his nightmare and once again he had no idea what the dream had been about. Alan had suggested that he should keep his sketchpad by his bed and draw whatever he remembered as soon as he awoke. The problem was that he'd been so distressed at that point, that all memories of the dream had been driven away. The sketchpad still lay beside his bed, top page unblemished, pencil still sharp.

He sensed rather than heard someone come up behind him.

"Morning," Gordon said.

Virgil didn't look round. "Morning," he replied dully.

"Breakfast will be ready soon."

Virgil grunted a reply.

"Something wrong?"

"Thinkin' about last night."

"Dream or piano?"

"Both."

"Oh." Gordon sat down beside him.

"You all walked out on me!"

"I know we shouldn't have," Gordon admitted, "but… Your piano playing is as much a part of our family life as…" he tried to think of a simile, "living on this island. I guess it was too much for all of us, not only Grandma. Did you continue practising after we left?"

"No. I didn't feel like it. I didn't like the idea of chasing you all out of the lounge."

"Are you going to try again today?"

Virgil shook his head. "No."

"You can't give up! You've never given up. On anything! You especially can't give up on your music!" Gordon was practically pleading. "It'd be like cutting off your hand, it's such a part of you."

"It's not a part of me now though, is it? I don't know what I'm doing. I don't remember. And I don't want to upset anyone."

Gordon had a flash of inspiration. "There's a keyboard in your studio. You could practise on that until you get your confidence back."

"Great," Virgil said flatly. "Something else I've got to relearn."

"Scott would show you."

Virgil gave him an unenthusiastic look and then looked back at the ocean that was now less purple and more blue.

"Give him a chance," Gordon begged. "He's okay."

Virgil continued his inspection of the blueing ocean.

"Hey," Gordon said gently. "I'm the one who's supposed to look out to sea when I'm feeling down."

Virgil sighed and flopped back so he was staring at the sky.

"And John's the one who feels better looking at the heavens..."

Virgil turned his head so he was looking at Gordon. "And me? What am I supposed to do when I'm 'down'? I don't even know that!"

"You listen to music."

"Music." Virgil resumed his despondent inspection of the skies.

"You'll learn again," Gordon insisted. "You've got a natural talent. Come on! Cheer up. You're more like Alan than Virgil at the moment."

"Maybe I'm more like Alan because I don't know what Virgil's like," Virgil stated. "What makes Alan feel better when he's sad?"

"Annoying us all with his sulking."

Virgil didn't even smile. "And Scott?"

"Bossing us all around…" As soon as he'd said the words Gordon wished he hadn't. "I'm kidding. He takes out his frustration in the gym… That's why he's spent so much time in there these last couple of days... He reminds me of a cat we used to have. He'd get frustrated if we were ignoring him or weren't feeding him. Then he'd find a bit of paper and start ripping it into confetti. Grandma would have a blue fit when she'd see the mess he'd made."

This recollection evoked no reaction from his brother.

"Come on, Virgil. What's really bothering you?"

Virgil hesitated before answering. "Who are you?"

Gordon tried to work out if this was some kind of a joke. To his shock he realised it wasn't. "What? I thought I'd explained all that."

"You've told me that you're a family. You've told me that you're my family…"

"That's right."

"You've told me that you're an organisation that has these fantastic machines that fly anywhere in the world to help anyone who needs it."

"Yes?" Gordon was wondering where all this was heading.

"Just the five of you?"

"Six! Tin-Tin helps occasionally…"

"I was including Tin-Tin."

"I was including you."

"Just one family of four brothers…"

"Five," Gordon interrupted.

Virgil continued on as if he hadn't. "…And Tin-Tin…"

"And Brains occasionally," Gordon reminded him.

"It sounds too implausible," Virgil stated.

"Why?" Gordon couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"You say you're able to do these amazing things. Things that sound impossible."

"When you've got the right tools anything is possible." Gordon protested. "Why would we lie to you?"

"You tell me."

Gordon was at a loss as to what to say or do. He decided that the first step would be to cheer Virgil up. Surely he'd see sense when he wasn't feeling so dejected.

Gordon Tracy resorted to his greatest weapon. He sighed melodramatically. "Okay. If I tell you the truth will you promise not to tell the others I let the cat out of the bag?"

"You're obsessed with cats, do you know that?" Virgil looked at him warily. "You'll tell the truth?"

"Do you promise?"

"Yeah. Okay," Virgil agreed

"We're aliens."

Virgil lifted his head off the mossy ground, looking at Gordon incredulously. "Aliens?"

Gordon nodded earnestly. "From outer space."

"From outer space," Virgil echoed.

"From the planet Coelacanth."

"A coelacanth is an ancient species of deep sea fish," Virgil told him.

"Our planet is in the constellation of Pieces." Gordon insisted. "We've come to your planet with our advanced technology to lure you Earth People into a false sense of security before our people invade and take over the world."

"Okay. I'll bite. Where do I fit into all of this?"

"You're a pawn in our plan. We've removed your brain so you will do our bidding."

"I'm almost prepared to believe the removed brain bit. What are you going to get me to do?"

"Something important."

"What?"

"I want you…" Gordon said dramatically.

"Yes?"

"To…"

"Yes?" Virgil said impatiently.

"Take me to your leader!"

Virgil stared at him. Then he laughed.

Gordon was greatly relieved to hear the sound. "I'm serious!"

Virgil laughed again. "Yeah, sure."

"Don't tell the others I told you," Gordon warned.

"Why? Are you frightened they'll die laughing?" Virgil sat up. "Don't worry. Your 'secret' is safe with me."

"Good. Now how about breakfast?"

"Yeah, why not?" Virgil stood, brushing bits of vegetation off his trousers. "Thanks, Gordon. You've cheered me up."

"All part of the service. Now as a repayment, will you please try to talk to Scott?"

Virgil sighed. "Yeah… okay."

They began the walk back down to the villa.

Gordon was thinking about what had just happened. He didn't want to show it, but he was concerned. He debated briefly with himself and decided that he wouldn't mention it to anyone else. They had enough worries, without him adding to them.

Virgil's next statement drove all previous thoughts from his mind. "Are Alan and Tin-Tin serious?"

"About each other? As serious as Alan can be over anything that doesn't have a motor and go faster than a Tiger Moth bi-plane. They pretend they're just friends, and we play along to keep them happy. Why?"

"Just wondering…" Virgil said quietly. "Tin-Tin seems nice…"

Gordon stopped abruptly. "Whoa! Hang on, Virgil. Tin-Tin's strictly off limits to the rest of us. We regard her as our little sister. Nothing more!"

Virgil held up a placatory hand. "Calm down. The thought of a relationship hadn't even crossed my mind. It was just a comment."

Gordon looked at him warily. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. If for no reason other than the idea of dating someone who knows more about me than I know about myself is not appealing at the moment. Besides," he chuckled, "where could we go?"

"Oh…" Gordon looked at his brother shamefully. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

They continued walking. Gordon, trying to think of a safe subject to talk about, said, "I didn't know you knew what a coelacanth was."

"I wouldn't worry. I don't know what I know. I wouldn't expect you to."

"No. I mean I didn't know that you knew what a coelacanth was before you had amnesia. You've never shown any interest in sea life…"

* * *

Virgil stood outside the door to the bedroom. He took a deep breath and knocked. A voice said, "Come in!" and the door slid back.

Scott was seated at his desk. He looked surprised to see Virgil standing there. "Hi."

"Hi," Virgil said awkwardly.

"Uh," Scott tried to think of something intelligent that would explain Virgil's presence. "Do you have a message for me?"

"No. I… I thought…"

"Would you like to come in?"

Virgil flashed a nervous smile and took a step into the room. The door slid shut behind him with a snap, causing him to jump.

"Sorry about that," Scott said. "There's something wrong with the mechanism. I keep meaning to fix it, but I never seem to find the time."

"Oh," Virgil said.

"Have a seat," Scott indicated a comfortable chair. "Can I do something for you?"

Virgil accepted the invitation and sat down, twisting his fingers together nervously in a subconscious gesture. He appeared to want to speak, but was unsure what to say.

Scott waited.

Virgil glanced at Scott and then looked at the floor. "Gordon and Fath… Da… People tell me that you and I were close."

Scott looked at the file in which he'd been writing. He slowly closed it. "I'd like to think we were."

What followed was an awkward silence.

"Um. Thank you for showing me the piano last night," Virgil eventually said.

"Uh. The piano? Not a problem."

Scott looked at his hands and frantically thought.

Virgil looked at his hands and frantically thought.

"Um. Did you enjoy playing the piano?"

"Uh. The piano? I didn't sound as good as you did."

Scott reflected that it must have been the first time ever.

The awkward silence returned.

"Gordon says there's a keyboard in the studio," Virgil said.

"Do you want me to show you how to use it?" Scott asked wondering if this was the real reason for his brother's visit.

Virgil nodded and once again the silence hung heavily in the room. Eventually he moved as if to stand. "I'm sorry. I'm wasting your time. I'll go."

"No don't! Let's talk," Scott begged.

"No, I've interrupted you," Virgil insisted.

"I've finished this," Scott picked up his folder and thrust it into a drawer, closing it quickly. He didn't realise he'd jammed the papers so they were partly protruding.

They both sat there wishing they could think of something to say.

Virgil was the first to speak up. "What were you doing?"

"What this?" Scott indicated his desk and then noticed the file. He removed it from the drawer and tried to straighten it out again. "Making some notes about yesterday's rescue. I like to sleep on it. See if there's anything we did really well, or could improve on."

"And was there?"

"Well, things by and large went well. We got the victims out."

"Have you heard how they are?"

"John picked up some radio report about them both being in a critical condition, but apart from that, no."

"Oh." Virgil was quiet for a moment. "Did you have any concerns…? About the rescue?"

"The only concern was the way Gordon reacted to the wind gust. "

"The wind gust? But surely he couldn't control that."

"No. But he could control what he did in response. He risked Alan's neck..."

"What happened to Alan wasn't Gordon's fault." Virgil was sticking up for his protector.

"Yes it was," Scott said evenly.

"What?" Virgil frowned.

"Gordon didn't react to the wind gust the way he should've."

"How'd you know?" Virgil asked defensively.

"He told me."

"He told you?" Virgil's defensive attitude changed to one of surprise.

"When it comes to International Rescue, Gordon's a total professional. He knows that in our business you can't afford slip-ups like that. It could cost someone's life. He was lucky it wasn't Alan's this time."

"How do you mean?"

"If it had have been a sideways movement instead of straight up into the air, he could have slammed Alan into the rocks, or the car. If it had happened when he was lifting the car the force of the collision could have been enough to destabilise Thunderbird Two's flight. The occupants of both the car and Thunderbird Two could have been killed."

Virgil thought about this for a moment. "But how was it Gordon's fault?"

"All our flying craft have sensors designed to detect wind gusts. They allow us, or the onboard computer, to compensate. Gordon wasn't concentrating on his wind gauges. When the gust hit, he overrode the computer causing Thunderbird Two to gain altitude. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to be dangerous."

"How can you prevent something like that happening?"

"It's a familiarity problem. Gordon's not as used to flying Thunderbird Two as…" Scott refrained from saying 'you were'. "It's one of the disadvantages we have in each of us specialising in one particular craft. We forget the nuances of the other vehicles in our fleet. So I'll take him out on some familiarisation exercises in Thunderbird Two this afternoon. Get him back up to speed."

"You'll show him what to do," there was a faint edge to Virgil's voice.

"And sometime soon he'll take me out to re-familiarise myself in Thunderbird Four. And Alan will give us both training in Thunderbird Three. We'll regard what happened yesterday as something of a wakeup call. As Gordon said, the simulator's no substitute for the real thing. We all need get in practise in each other's craft."

"All except me."

"Yeah… well…" Scott said awkwardly and his flow of speech dried up.

They lapsed back into the uneasy silence.

Scott reflected that he had just explained some of the intricacies of Thunderbird Two to someone who under normal circumstances should know more about them than he did. He felt that it was Virgil who should be doing this afternoon's re-familiarisation session, not him.

Virgil reflected that he didn't know why he was here with this man, except to please Gordon, and wondered if he should try to make another exit.

Scott made another attempt to get the conversation flowing again. "Is there anything I can tell you about yourself? I've known you longer than Gordon has."

"I don't know. I don't know what I don't know."

Scott worked his way through that sentence. "It can't be much fun for you at the moment."

"No."

"If I can help, you only need to ask."

"Thanks."

Scott couldn't remember things ever being this awkward between the pair of them before.

Virgil couldn't remember.

"Can I tell you about your schooling?" Scott asked hopefully.

"Gordon covered that."

"Hobbies?"

"No."

"Jobs?"

Virgil shook his head.

Scott thought desperately, and then brightened when an idea came to him. "I know something Gordon won't have told you about, because he won't know," he said triumphantly.

"What's that?"

"I can tell you about the day you were born."

Virgil decided to listen politely.

Scott gave a rueful chuckle. "Obviously I was pretty young when I was told that I was going to get another sibling. I was upfront about it. I wanted a little sister. I demanded a little sister!" He slapped his desk in emphasis. "Don't ask me why? I think that because I already had a little brother in John, I wanted a set. Probably I knew some other kid that had one of each. I went through Ma's entire pregnancy insisting that she give me a sister…" He flushed slightly. "Uh, you do know what I'm talking about… don't you?"

"I remember that much," Virgil reassured him.

"Good," Scott said in relief. "Anyway Ma kept on telling me that she couldn't guarantee that the baby would be a girl, because she didn't know what it would be herself. And then, on the 15th of August 2041, Grandma told me that the baby had been born."

"A boy," Virgil said.

"Yep. I was really disappointed when I was told that I had a new baby brother. I sulked all the way to the hospital." Scott grinned at his own foolishness. "So I had another brother. Big deal. I didn't want it. And if Ma wasn't going to give it back, I decided that I was going to ignore it… forever. That'd teach Ma for not giving me a sister."

"What changed your mind?" Virgil asked in interest.

Scott realised that his brother was beginning to relax, and relaxed himself. "Grandma took me into Ma's room. She was in bed holding the baby. At least that's what I thought she was holding. All I could see were blankets. 'Do you want to see your brother?' Father asked. 'No,' I replied. 'He wants to say hello to you,' Ma said. 'Don't care,' I said, 'he can go back where he came from."

"Well, at least everyone knew where you stood," Virgil chuckled.

"Oh, I made that clear enough. Then Ma said, 'Would you like to hold Virgil?' and I'm thinking 'What is a Virgil?'"

Virgil laughed.

"Anyway, Grandma convinced me to sit in one of the chairs, and Father took those blankets from Ma and put them on my lap. I held on tightly, but I was not going to look! I was going to ignore this Virgil! Then you made a snuffling sound and I looked down to see what kind of creature you were. This big pair of eyes were looking right at me as if to say 'Oh, it's you, Scott.', and then you closed your eyes and went to sleep... I suddenly realised what it meant to be a big brother. As far as I remembered John had always been there, so he didn't count. But to have someone who trusted me enough to protect him, on his first day in the world, that he would fall asleep in my arms… It felt pretty special. It was at that moment I was glad I didn't have a little sister."

"You've got a good memory," Virgil commented, "if you can remember all that in such detail."

"Well," Scott said, "I was reminded. Remember? At your 25th birthday party, Father…" he paled. "Oh, heck. I'm sorry. Virg… Virgil…" Scott clenched his fists tightly in a gesture that said he wanted to crawl up into a ball and hide.

"It's okay. You're lucky you're able to forget…" then Virgil chuckled. "That's ironic isn't it. Me saying that."

Scott managed a chuckle of his own. "I'll tell you something else Gordon won't have told you about. I'll bet he hasn't told you about Gordon."

"Yes he has."

"Not the stories I know, I'll bet…"

Half an hour later found them both laughing hysterically.

"… So while Alan's trying to convince the teacher that the mouse was a fake one, and that she was mistaken in what she saw, Gordon's sneaking behind her trying to catch the live one. He didn't have a chance."

"He got caught?" Virgil asked through his laughter.

"She heard him, of course, and caught him red handed. It's a bit hard to explain away a live mouse in one hand and a homemade fake mouse in the other."

"Did they get into trouble?"

"I'll say. The way Father went on you'd think it was a capital offence. Mind you, the school wasn't too pleased at having the mouse stolen from the biology lab, cotton wool taken from the first aid room, and yarn swiped from the sewing room. The paint all over the floor and walls of the art studio from where the teacher had dropped them when she first saw the mouse didn't help either. Gordon's explanation that he was helping Alan with an art project only got him into more trouble, since Alan wasn't taking art at the time. Gordon had to clean up the paint spill, had detention for a month and was grounded at home for just as long. Alan's punishment was detention and grounding for a week. It didn't put Gordon off practical jokes though, and it didn't stop Alan from helping him either."

Virgil shook his head ruefully and wiped tears of laughter out of his eyes. "They're a couple of characters aren't they. They've been trying to make me believe all sorts of weird things. They even tried to tell me that International Rescue's got a plane that flies out of the swimming pool."

Scott grinned. "We do."

Virgil looked at him in amazement. "You're kidding me!"

"Nope. Want to see?"

"Of course I do! Which one is it?"

"Thunderbird One," Scott said proudly.

"Your plane?"

"That's it."

"Why through the swimming pool?"

"Would you think of looking for an aeroplane underneath a swimming pool?"

"No," Virgil admitted. "How do you get it out?"

"Didn't you see me launch yesterday?" Scott asked.

Virgil shook his head. "No. I was still trying to get my head around John's picture coming to life and the wall eating you up."

Scott laughed, rising as he did so. "Come on. I'll show you Thunderbird One. I can explain everything down there…"


	11. Eleven

** Eleven**

As Scott waited for Virgil to rotate from the lounge into Thunderbird One's hangar, he reflected on the warm glow that he'd been feeling since Virgil had first shown an interest in his plane. The feeling had intensified when he'd seen his father's smile of relief when they'd told him what they were going to do. He knew everything was going to be all right between him and Virgil.

An electronic buzzer warned him that the wall panel was about to rotate. He waited a moment and grinned at Virgil's surprised face when his brother first laid eyes on Scott's pride and joy. His grin threatened to split his face in two when Virgil's first response was to stride over to the edge of the platform, grip the guardrail tightly, and gaze down into the depths of the hangar below. "Wow!"

"What do you think?"

"Impressive. I guess it's not as big as Thunderbird Two, but this close and from this height…" words failed Virgil.

"She's a little smaller. She's built for speed, not for transporting equipment."

"Speed! It looks fast standing there! How fast can it go?" Virgil turned back to look at Scott.

"24,000 kilometres per hour, max."

Virgil looked up at the ceiling of the hangar, hewn out of the rock that formed Tracy Island. He frowned briefly, trying to get his bearings. "That's the wall we came through," he turned his back to the wall, "so the pool must be there…" He pointed and looked towards where he supposed the pool should be. "How does Thunderbird One launch from here?"

"She's on a track system that goes deeper into the earth until she stops on her launch pad, which is under the pool."

"Okay. How do you actually fly through the swimming pool?"

"It retracts when I'm ready to take off. We've got a hidden reservoir for the overflow."

"How about when you return to base? Where do you land?"

"I bring her back to the vertical and then 'drop' back through the opening left by the pool."

"You land it through the pool! That's amazing!" Virgil exclaimed. "I didn't think the pool was that big. You must be a fantastic pilot."

"Not bad," Scott said modestly. "We can all do it, but I've had the most practise obviously."

Virgil looked back up at the red nose cone of Thunderbird One. "How tall is it?"

"35 metres nose to tail."

"35 metres… That's quite a drop." Virgil placed his hands back on the guardrail and admired Thunderbird One's lines. His eyes lowered down to the large '1' painted on the base of the plane.

"Yep. That's why the rail's there. You'd better hang on…"

…_Hang on _…_ Hang on_…

Words – sounds – echoing…

Scott didn't see Virgil's grip tighten on the rail. "…it's a long way to fall…" he continued.

…_Fall_… _Fall_… _Fall_…

Echoes – fear – horror…

"I'll take you across if…" Scott looked at Virgil, whose face had gone white. "Are you okay?"

Virgil took a step backwards away from the dizzying drop.

"Virgil?"

Virgil shook his head dazedly. "I…" He swallowed and took another step back. "I've got to get out of here."

"Virgil?" Scott asked again confusedly. "What's wrong?"

"Let me out!" Virgil dashed over and grabbed at the twin light fittings frantically. "Let me out of here!"

"Calm down!" Scott said in alarm. "Let me open it for you." He pushed a button and the wall swung open.

Virgil was through before the door had completed its revolution. The light streaming in through the patio doors called to him like a beacon. Ignoring the occupants in the lounge he made a beeline to the welcoming sun.

Scott followed him almost immediately into the lounge "Virgil!"

"What happened!" Jeff asked.

"Dunno…"

Virgil reached the patio and gripped the balcony rail tightly. He closed his eyes and allowed the warm sun to caress his face. He breathed deeply trying to get his racing heart back under control.

"Virgil?"

The sound of his name from behind him caused him to open his eyes. As he did so, he looked down into the courtyard below.

Down.

Once again that inexplicable emotion welled up inside him. He didn't hear Alan repeat his name. He didn't feel Jeff place a concerned hand on his arm. He only knew one thing…

He had to get out of here!

He had to get somewhere safe!

He had to get somewhere familiar!

Virgil turned and ran back into the house.

"Virgil!" Scott called after him helplessly. "What's wrong?"

Down below in the pool, Gordon heard the commotion. He looked up in time to see Virgil flee, and Alan lean over the patio rail to call down to him. Not bothering about getting dressed or even grabbing a towel, he launched himself out of the pool and raced up the steps to the house. There was no one in the lounge so he hurried towards Virgil's room.

Jeff, Scott and Alan were standing outside.

"What's wrong?" Gordon asked.

"I don't know," Scott said unhappily. "I was showing him Thunderbird One. He seemed fine. I thought he was enjoying himself. He looked over the guardrail and made some comment about the height. Then he just freaked out."

"Any ideas why?"

"No," Scott shook his head.

"Okay. I'll go see what I can do," Gordon sighed. He opened Virgil's door and cautiously looked inside. "Virgil?" he called quietly.

No response.

He took a step in and shut the door behind him. He couldn't see his brother anywhere. "Virgil?" he called again…

"It's me isn't it," Scott said dejectedly. "Something always goes wrong when I'm about."

"It's not your fault," his father tried to reassure him.

"Then I'm the cause…"

"Don't you start," Alan said. "Where were you when he 'freaked out'? How close?"

"I was on the platform and he was holding onto the guardrail."

"So you were at least two metres apart. How can it be your fault?" Alan said reasonably.

"How else can you explain what just happened?"

"I don't know. But I do know that it's nothing to do with…"

"You don't know!" Scott's said heatedly. "I don't know! We don't know! We're as bad as Virg… Virgil! Why can't I remember to say his name properly?"

"Calm down, Scott," Jeff said in a soothing voice.

"Calm down? You saw him!"

"Gordon will…" Jeff started to say

"Gordon! Not me you notice! It always used to be me. Now he doesn't even trust me!"

"He doesn't know you…" Alan tried to say.

"He doesn't want to know me! I'm…" Scott stopped himself before he got too emotional. "I'm going to the gym!" He hurried off down the hallway…

Gordon took the lack of response to be an invitation to move further into the room. He had decided that the studio would be a good place to search until a sound made him look by the bed. Jammed in between his bed and bedside cabinet was Virgil. He had his legs pulled up to his body and his eyes were shut tight.

"Virgil?" Gordon asked in a quiet voice. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Virgil opened his eyes and looked fearfully at his brother. "I don't know."

"Something must have happened. Why'd you run?" Gordon crouched down, leaning on the bed.

"I… I don't know. Scott was showing me Thunderbird… One, and I was fine. I was enjoying myself… Then I looked over the rail and had this sensation of… of falling. I couldn't stay. I had to get out of there."

"I wonder why," Gordon mused. "You've never had any problems with vertigo in the past. What were you doing?"

"Nothing. Just looking."

"Did Scott say or do something?"

"No. He was nowhere near me. I think he was telling me about Thunderbird One… I don't remember." Virgil pressed his head backwards into the wall. "I can't remember. Why can't I remember? What's happening to me?" he asked plaintively.

"I don't know. I wish I did. We all do."

Virgil closed his eyes again. "Do you have any idea what this is like? Do you know what it's like to have amnesia?"

"No," Gordon admitted again. "I've tried to imagine, but I can't. Not really. The closest I can come to it is after my hydrofoil accident."

Virgil cracked open his eyes and looked at him. "Hydrofoil accident?"

Gordon sat on the floor using the bed as a backrest. "Yeah. It was a short time before International Rescue was started. I think Dad was still in the early planning stages. I was with WASP, the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, at the time and a hydrofoil blew itself apart, with me in it.

"It did what!"

"I was unconscious for ages. They didn't know if I'd live, and if I was going to live, whether I'd be a vegetable or be able to walk again, or what!"

Virgil looked at him in concern, his own problems temporarily forgotten.

"When I did eventually regain consciousness all my muscles had atrophied. It was as if they'd forgotten how they were supposed to operate. I'd lie there thinking, 'now arm you are supposed to move like this'," Gordon demonstrated by moving his arm upwards, "but it wouldn't move. It took a lot of work by a lot of people to get me mobile again. And a lot of blood, sweat and tears on my part."

"But you're okay now?"

"Oh yeah. Fit as a fiddle. Otherwise Dad wouldn't let me be on the team."

"So that's how…" Virgil stopped embarrassed.

"Yes?" Gordon asked curiously.

"It wasn't through International Rescue that you got those scars."

Gordon looked down at his torso. "Nope. Well that one was." He indicated a small scar on his forearm. "I was cleaning down Thunderbird Four's tail fin and fell off. I impaled myself on a bolt in the pod," he grinned disarmingly.

"I wondered how you got them, but I didn't like to ask."

"Don't be afraid to ask anything. You've got to ask questions. You'll never find anything out if you don't."

"Don't say never. I refuse to even consider that this amnesia is permanent."

"Fair enough. But in the meantime ask! How else are you going to learn? As my brother you already know most of it anyway. And…" Gordon's grin intensified, "as your brother it's my right to tell you where to go if I don't want to tell you something."

Virgil managed a smile of his own and stretched his legs.

Gordon was relieved to see him start to relax.

The relief reverted back to concern when Virgil pulled his legs back up again. "Scott probably hates me now," he said sadly.

"Scott! Hate you! Never," Gordon said dismissively. "He's out there wondering what he did wrong and kicking himself for it. He's probably in the gym using himself as the punching bag."

Virgil sighed. "I'm upsetting a lot of people aren't I?"

"It's not your fault."

"No. But I'm the cause."

Gordon was getting heartily sick of that turn of phrase and tried not to show it. "You know you and Scott are good friends."

"So I'm told. That's why I asked him to show me Thunderbird One. I wanted to try to get to know him better – And I think I was… I didn't expect this to happen."

"I'll bet he didn't either…"

The punch bag railed backwards under the force of the blow. It had little time to recover before it was forced away from the perpendicular again.

Another blow… and another… and…

"Scott?"

"Grandma? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you were, Darling. I heard what happened."

Scott hit the bag.

"Now stop doing that and come and talk to me."

"What's there to talk about, Grandma? He doesn't like me, pure and simple. Nothing to talk about." The punch bag was punished again.

"You don't believe that do you?"

"What else can I believe? Every time I go near him something happens."

"Now don't exaggerate and come and sit next to me!"

When Grandma Tracy used that tone of voice, the safest option was to obey. Scott removed his gloves and sat on the form beside the diminutive figure that was his Grandmother. "I thought he was beginning to like me."

"He always has liked you, Scott. He's just getting…"

"To know me!" Scott threw the gloves angrily against the wall. "Everyone tells me that! How long does it have to take?"

"I don't know."

"I thought we were getting somewhere! I told him the story of how I'd hoped he'd be a girl when he was born. He was warming to me. I know he was! And then I told him some tales about Gordon! He was laughing with me."

Mrs Tracy chuckled. "My, the grief you gave your poor mother over not wanting another little brother. She was concerned over how you'd react if she had another son. I told her, 'Don't you worry; boy or girl, Scott will look after, and love this child because it'll be his younger sibling.' I was right wasn't I?"

"Yes, Grandma."

"I'm always right aren't I?"

"Yes, Grandma."

"So I'm telling you not to let this one episode worry you." She ruffled his hair affectionately.

"But it's not only one, is it? First there was on the flight deck of Thunderbird Two. Then the nightmare…"

"Nightmare?" she asked.

"Oh," Scott reddened slightly. "We weren't going to tell you about that."

"Oh, weren't you?"

"We didn't want to worry you."

"Honey, I'm already worried. Do you think a nightmare's going to make it any worse? Now tell me what happened."

"Virgil's been having nightmares every night. The first night I went in to see if he was all right. He woke up, took one look at me and cringed away as if I was going to attack him. It took Gordon to calm him down."

"What are these nightmares about?"

"We don't know. He can't remember."

"And this has been going on every night?"

Scott nodded. "I hear him yelling, and Gordon going to help him, but I daren't do anything myself." He leant forward, elbows on his knees and grasped his hair in anguish. "He won't let me help him."

"Oh, Scott…" Grandma Tracy put her tiny, frail arm around his big, strong shoulders and held him close. "I wish I could help you."

It had been many years since Scott Tracy has needed the embrace of his Grandmother so desperately. He accepted her attentions as he had as a child. "I want my little brother back, Grandma."

"I know, Darling. We all want him back…"

Gordon had an idea. "Tell you what. To show Scott there's no hard feelings, how about a game of traceball? You and Scott against me and Alan."

"Traceball?"

"Yeah. It's something we made up. Kinda a cross between basketball and volleyball. We made it up one day when you and Scott wanted to play basketball and Alan and I wanted to play volleyball. Do you want to give it a try? You could partner Scott."

Virgil thought for a moment. "Traceball."

"Yes."

"Me and Scott."

"Yes."

Virgil stretched his legs again. "Okay. I guess I'm trying a lot of new things at the moment. Why not traceball?"

"That's the spirit. Come on then," Gordon stood and waited.

Virgil tried to extract himself from his position between the bed and cabinet. "I think I'm going to need a hand getting out of here."

"You drip," Gordon laughed as he grasped Virgil by the wrists and pulled. "Why'd you jam yourself in there in the first place?"

"I felt protected," Virgil protested as he popped free. "Anyway, you're a fine one to call me a drip when you've just soaked the carpet and bedspread."

"Oh, yeah," Gordon appeared to notice the wet patch on the floor. "Mind if I swipe some of your towels?"

Virgil shrugged noncommittally. Gordon grabbed a couple of towels and started patting dry the carpet and blankets.

"Thank you," Virgil said sincerely.

Gordon looked surprised at the depth of the emotion expressed. "For what?"

"For helping me through this. For supporting me."

Gordon was silent for a moment. "I'm just repaying the favour, Virgil. After my hydrofoil accident you were a real help to me. You helped me believe that I could walk again. You and all the guys." He thought briefly. "You know, if it wasn't me supporting you, it would be any one of our brothers. We always have and we always will…"

"I want to help him, Grandma. But how can I if he won't let me get close enough?"

"I know, Darling. I know how you feel. I want to help too."

"He'd let you."

"Would he? You didn't see him react to me…" sadness coloured her voice.

"That first day?"

She nodded.

Scott reversed their positions. Now he was comforting his Grandmother. "I know what happened. But he didn't know you then. He didn't know any of us. You caught him unawares and he reacted accordingly."

"You didn't see the expression on his face. It was… almost… revulsion."

"Well if you didn't know anyone, and this crazy old lady suddenly grabbed your face, wouldn't you feel uncomfortable?"

"I don't know that I appreciate your description of me, Scott Tracy!"

Scott chuckled. "I guarantee that he doesn't feel like that about you now. He knows you're not crazy…"

"But I'm still old."

"Not old, Grandma. You're a recycled teenager."

She laughed.

"And now he knows about your talents. He's pretty quick getting to the table at mealtimes."

She smiled briefly. "But I can still picture his face that first day. I don't want to see that expression again."

"Come on, Grandma. Wasn't it you who was just telling me to let him get to know me better? Now I'm going to give you that same advice."

She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Darling. Thank you for listening… and talking. Everyone else seems to think I'm this little old lady who needs cosseting."

"Not old, Grandma," Scott reminded her.

"A recycled teenager," she corrected herself, "who's got work to do. Are you coming with me?"

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "I think we both need to get out of here."

* * *

Gordon and Virgil found their traceball partners in the lounge.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked Virgil anxiously. "I'm sorry…"

"It wasn't your fault," Virgil reassured him. "I don't know what caused it."

"Anyway," Gordon butted in, "we're not going to worry about that now. How about a game of traceball? Virgil and Scott versus me and Alan."

"Sounds good," Alan said eagerly.

"Do you want to?" Scott asked Virgil warily.

"Gordon hasn't explained the rules to me yet, but yeah, I'd like a go."

"Maybe we'd better get into something more appropriate," Gordon was looking down at his own attire, which was consisting solely of his swimming trunks.

"Okay. Meet you on the court in ten," Scott said. He waited until Alan and Gordon had left the room and then cautiously sidled up to Virgil. "Do you mind being my partner?"

"Depends on what we have to do," Virgil replied and grinned. "I'm fine with this, Scott. I wouldn't mind your help to show me what I should be wearing too."

Scott smiled in relief. "I'll give you a hand with that and then we can explain the rules."

The four of them met down on the court. Alan dragged Tin-Tin along. "She's volunteered to be the umpire."

Tin-Tin pouted. "No I haven't, Alan. I can never understand the rules of this game. I'm sure you boys change them each time you play."

"Please, Tin-Tin. Just this one time," Alan turned his most beseeching expression towards her. "For Virgil?"

"Don't bring me into your argument," Virgil said. "If Tin-Tin can't understand, how am I supposed to?"

"So, you'll both learn the rules at the same time," Alan persisted.

Scott ignored the argument and started to explain the game to Virgil. "You've got two teams made of two. One player is offensive…"

"That's Scott," Gordon offered. "He can be very offensive at times."

Scott did his best to ignore him. "… and is on one side of the net. The other plays defence on the other side. The goal is for the offensive player to score points while the defensive one tries to stop the other teams offensive player from scoring."

Virgil listened politely and tried not to look confused.

"You can score three ways. One is for the offensive player to get the ball to touch the ground on the other side of the net. That's one point."

"I thought it was two," Alan interrupted.

"It's one," Gordon confirmed.

"If the offensive player can get the ball to hit the ground within the two point scoring zone on the basketball court, then that's three points."

"Two!" Alan insisted.

"Three!" Gordon reiterated.

Alan went into a sulk.

"If the offensive player manages to sink a basket, that's ten points."

Virgil looked at Alan as if he were expecting him to disagree. "The basket on the opposing side of the net?"

"That's right," Scott confirmed.

"Where's the two point scoring zone?" Virgil asked.

Four hands pointed it out for him.

"What is the defensive player doing while all this is going on?" he asked.

"Trying to stop the other team from stopping your team from scoring, stopping them from trying to score, while attempting to return the ball to his own offensive player, so that his team can score," Scott said.

"If the defensive player can't get the ball back to the offensive player in one shot, then that's a non-scoring round," Gordon added.

"So you've only got one chance each time the ball's on your side of the net," Virgil tried to make sense of it all. "Sounds difficult."

"It is," Scott agreed. "But…"

"There's always a but," Gordon said cheerfully.

"You can dribble the ball, basketball style, so you can get into a better position for returning it to your team-mate," Scott continued.

"Dribble?" Virgil asked.

"Bounce while running," Scott explained.

"Only three bounces though," Alan added.

"Two!" his brothers corrected him.

"Fine," he muttered. "Make it two. See if I care."

"So you can catch and hold onto the ball," Virgil said.

"Uh, huh. But not for longer than two seconds," Gordon confirmed "That's why we need an umpire."

Tin-Tin rolled her eyes and said nothing.

"Make sense?" Gordon asked.

"No," Virgil replied. "But I'll give it a go."

"Okay, you and Alan can head down to that side of the net," Scott started giving directions. "Gordon and I are up here. I'll go on offensive first, that means you're defence, Virg…il." He cursed himself quietly.

"Hang on!" Gordon held up proceedings. "Tin-Tin, where's the timer?"

"What timer, Gordon?" she asked patiently.

"Each session is quarter of an hour long. Then we change roles. First team to 50 points wins."

His brothers looked at him. "Since when?" Scott asked.

"Since now."

Alan cast his eyes heavenwards in an 'I don't know' gesture.

Virgil followed Alan to one side of the volleyball net that was strung across the basketball court. "So I've got to stop you from getting the ball and scoring, and at the same time try to get it back to Scott."

"I guess so. They've changed the rules since last time we played it."

"Are you ready, Virgil?" Scott called across the net.

"As I'll ever be."

Scott hit the ball, volleyball style. Virgil went the wrong way. Alan parried it back and scored.

"Nil… Two?" Tin-Tin called.

"That was worth one point," Gordon told her.

"Nil – one," she amended and made a note on a pad.

"Sorry, Scott," Virgil apologised.

"Don't worry," Scott replied. "You're still learning."

"Aren't we all," Tin-Tin muttered under her breath.

Scott served again.

This time Virgil went in the right direction, but was too slow.

"Nil – four," Tin-Tin called.

"It was outside the zone," Scott protested.

"Tin-Tin's the umpire," Alan told him. "What she says goes."

Scott decided not to argue. He served again.

Alan caught the ball and tried to send it back. This time Virgil managed to intercept his return shot, but only succeeded in knocking the ball to the ground.

"Sorry," he apologised again.

"My serve," Alan cheerfully said.

Virgil was glad to have a break and watch how Gordon fared.

Scott intercepted Alan's serve and attempted to blast it back over the net. Gordon intercepted, dribbled two steps and then passed the ball back to Alan. Virgil wasn't expecting the move and didn't react when Alan attempted to score again. Scott intercepted and slam-dunked the ball over the net.

"Three – one," Tin-Tin called.

"So that's what you're supposed to do," Virgil said to Gordon.

"Yeah. Nothin' to it."

By half time, Virgil was starting to get some idea of what was going on and he and Scott were only behind by seven points.

The score was 28 – 21.

They all changed roles.

"Do you want to serve, Virgil?" Gordon asked.

Virgil shrugged. "Guess so."

Somehow, more by accident than design (and through a bit of help from Gordon) Virgil's scoring managed to stay within seven points of the other team.

The time was counting down…

"30 seconds remaining," Tin-Tin called.

Gordon scored a point bringing his score to 46.

Virgil scored a three pointer bringing his score to 41.

"15 seconds!"

Gordon scored two points.

Tin-Tin started a countdown. "Ten – nine…"

Gordon served.

"Eight…"

Virgil intercepted, but Alan blocked his scoring shot sending it back towards Gordon.

"Five…"

Scott grabbed the ball before Gordon was able to get his hand on it again. Time was running short, so he trusted his instincts and lobbed it backwards over his head to where he hoped Virgil would be standing.

"Four – three…"

Amazingly Virgil was in position. He pulled the ball out of the air.

Alan was blocking his shot.

Virgil turned and dribbled the ball twice. He then leapt into the air, spinning as he did so. At the apex of his leap he threw the ball…

"One…"

Gordon made a grab at the ball, and missed…

The ball fell through the basket.

The buzzer of the timer went off.

Tin-Tin cheered. "Virgil and Scott win!"

Scott let out a whoop. "That's ten points! We won! You did it, Virg!"

Virgil was standing there in amazement looking at the basket, which was still swaying from the force of his shot. "I did it?"

"Nice shot, Virgil," Alan congratulated him.

"I did it? How? How'd I do that? How'd I know that he'd throw the ball to there?"

"That type of shot is why you made Captain of your basketball team," Gordon told him.

"But I don't…"

"Well done, Virgil," Tin-Tin gave him a kiss on the cheek. Alan gave her a strange look.

Virgil blushed and took a couple of steps backwards so he was partly hidden by Alan. "It was a team effort… I still don't…"

"Time for a swim," Gordon announced. "Everybody into the pool!"

Scott clapped Virgil on the back. "I thought they had us. That was a brilliant shot."

Virgil gave up trying to understand it all. "Thanks."

"Come on," Scott suggested. "We can cool off in the pool."

"Uh, the pool?" Virgil said. "Can I swim?"

Scott looked as if he'd only just remembered his brother's condition. "Uh, yeah you can. If your basketball skills are anything to go by, you'll remember as soon as you touch the water. Come on!" he led the way from the basketball court to the pool.

Alan and Gordon were already enjoying themselves, having decided to forgo their swimming costumes and had only divested themselves of their shirts and shoes. Tin-Tin had decided that she'd had enough excitement for one day and was relaxing on one of the deck chairs.

Scott stripped off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and dived in.

Virgil looked at them from the pool's edge. "I think I'll just watch you guys."

Gordon and Alan looked at each other. "You know, there's a tradition that must be upheld," Gordon said.

"Tradition?" Virgil asked.

"That's right," Alan pulled himself out of the water, beside his still dry brother.

"Tradition?" Virgil asked again, this time more warily.

Gordon joined Alan on the dry land. He stood. "Yeah, tradition. The losers have to give something to the winner."

"What?" Virgil asked cautiously.

"We have to give you a hand into the water!" Before Virgil had a chance to react Gordon gave a wicked grin and grabbed him by the arms.

"Hey!" Virgil protested.

Alan got hold of his feet and pulled his shoes off. "Now for the ceremonial dunking."

"Guys," Virgil pleaded.

"You'll catch him won't you, Scott," Gordon said to his brother treading water in the pool.

"So long as you don't throw him on top of me..." Scott stated. "Don't you fellas think you're being a bit mean?"

"Once he's in there he'll love it, you know that," Gordon reminded him.

"Well, let him get in by himself!"

"Please," Virgil asked.

"It's a tradition," Alan reminded him. "One!" He and Gordon began to swing their helpless brother.

"Guys!" Virgil protested.

"Two."

"Since when has that been a tradition of traceball?" Scott asked. His comment fell on deaf ears. "Don't throw him too high!"

"Three!" Virgil was thrown into the pool.

He surfaced, coughing.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," Virgil said resignedly and his two assailants dove back into the pool. "Just fine. Now how do I swim?"

"One arm over, then the next," Scott demonstrated.

Virgil tried out a couple of strokes and found that the motion came easily to him.

"If you want to see a champion, just watch Gordon," Alan advised.

"Champion?" Virgil asked.

"Yeah. He won an Olympic medal for swimming."

"Olympic medal?" Virgil said in amazement. "What colour?"

"Gold," Alan said proudly.

"You're pulling my leg…"

"Nope. Hey, Gordon!" Alan yelled at his brother who was lapping the pool. "Virgil wants to see your medal."

Gordon ceased his swimming. "Which one?"

"Your Olympic one of course."

"Really?" Gordon said delightedly. "Okay. Come on then." He climbed out of the pool, closely followed by Virgil. They grabbed a couple of towels from a locker before climbing the stairs, Virgil interrogating Gordon about his Olympic triumph.

Scott watched them depart, his mood growing darker.

Alan didn't notice. He swam a couple more laps until he was pulled up short by a shout from the patio. "Alan!"

"What, Gordon!"

"Virgil wants to see your racing trophies!"

"He does?" Alan didn't need a second telling and clambered out of the pool.

Scott remained where he was, wallowing in the water and his deepening depression.

Tin-Tin watched him in concern. "Scott?"

He pulled himself out of the pool. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Me?" he said bitterly. "I'm fine, just fine."

She looked at him. He was a forlorn figure standing there in his wet shorts with his dark hair clinging to his face. As she watched he pushed a lock out of his eyes and tried shove his hands into his clammy pockets. "Why don't you show him your Air Force medals?"

"He won't be interested. They're nothing special. They give them out if you manage to get a plane off the ground."

"Your Medal for Valour…"

"You get given that if you manage to land the plane again." He sighed and looked wistfully at the patio doors.

"Keep trying, Scott," Tin-Tin begged. "Once Virgil realises that he does like you…"

"He doesn't like me. He'd rather I wasn't around." Scott stubbed at the ground with his toe. "If anyone wants me I'll be in the gym. That's if anyone's interested." He started walking towards the ground level door to the gym.

"Scott!" she called after him.

He didn't turn back. "Later, Tin-Tin."

The pity she felt towards Scott Tracy quickly turned into anger towards his brothers.

She stormed up the steps and into the house. Jeff looked up as she stamped her way through the lounge, but didn't comment. Tin-Tin could be like his mother when she was angry, and in that situation it was better to keep out of the way. Especially if you were the one who was in trouble!

Tin-Tin found her quarry in Alan's room. All three men were there and none of them had bothered to get changed. They were standing in the middle of the room with sodden towels about their waists. Alan was showing Virgil the trophy he'd won at Parola Sands, while Gordon was chipping in with excited comments.

Tin-Tin knocked on the door. When they looked up she fixed them all with a saccharine smile. "Alan. Can I have a word with you please?"

Alan looked as if he were slightly disappointed. "Now?"

"It'll only take a moment."

"Okay," he said grudgingly. "Back in a moment, Virgil. Don't believe anything Gordon tells you."

Tin-Tin walked down the hallway until they were out of earshot.

Alan followed. "What's up? I was showing Virgil…"

Tin-Tin hit him.

"Ow! What's that for?" Alan rubbed his unprotected, and now sore, arm.

"For upsetting Scott," Tin-Tin hissed.

"For what?"

"Virgil was finally getting to know him again and you dragged him away!"

"Dragged him… Now come on, Tin-Tin. It may have escaped your notice but it was Gordon who took him out of the pool to show him his medal. I was invited afterwards."

"And who was it who told him about it?"

"Well…" Alan couldn't rebuke that one. "He was interested."

"He was interested in Scott until you opened your big mouth."

"And now Scott's upset?"

"He's back in the gym again. He thinks Virgil doesn't like him."

"Rubbish."

"No, Alan. Not rubbish. Now what are you going to do about it?" She folded her arms defiantly.

"Do about it? Um… Talk to Gordon?"

"And then?"

"I don't know, Tin-Tin. Let me talk to Gordon and we'll see if we can come up with an answer. It's his fault…"

She glared at him.

"… As well as mine," he added grudgingly.

"Good!" she turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Alan standing in the middle of the hallway looking after her. He bit his lip and wondered just what was going on…


	12. Twelve

** Twelve**

_My Darling Lucille_

_Thank heavens Brains designed this thought processor. With it I am able to sit in our lounge with my family and friends about me, and write this letter, and they'll never know who it's to, or what I'm saying. No more two-finger typing. No more dictation. As quick as I think of what I want to say it's recorded for posterity in the computer._

_If our sons knew I was writing this letter, they'd laugh their heads off. Either that or find their poor old Dad a nice, safe padded cell somewhere to live out the rest of his miserable life. They don't know how many times I've written to you over the years. I don't know myself. I've never counted._

_They don't know how these letters to you have given me strength at times when I've felt that I've no one else to turn to. We're a close family, but being the 'Patriarch' I feel I've got be firm, strong, and tough. I've got to be the rock of this family. No matter if it's an illusion. No matter how close I am to falling to pieces._

_When I'm dead and gone, they'll look in the computer's memory bank and find a file marked 'Lucille'. They'll be curious and find these letters._

_Maybe then they'll realise what you mean to me. How close you and I were. How you made me feel whole. The phrase 'My other half' summed you up perfectly. Until I met you I hadn't realised how incomplete my life was. You were, and still are, my better half._

_You are the sexiest, most desirable woman this side of the Moon. And I've been there, Lucille. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about._

_I remember how I'd be sitting in our lounge trying to memorise all sorts of things that I needed to know for the moon landing, and you'd come in and sit on my lap, nibble at my ear and then the moon would be the last thing on my mind. All I'd want to do is get you and…_

_Whoa, Tracy! If you continue along that line of thought you'll be in trouble. I'm sure my face is already burning. I can see Scott looking at me curiously as it is._

_Thinking about it, Scott may remember how much I loved you. The number of times he walked into our room at inopportune times… that was until we started locking the door. I wonder who'd be the most embarrassed if I reminded him of those occasions, him or me? Don't worry; I'm not about to find out._

_If I continue thinking along those lines, I'll be a wreck, there's no two ways about it, so I'd better get back to safer ground. _

_You remember that it was a couple of months after your death that I started writing these letters. I was alone, with five young sons, no job, no prospects, no wife… I had nothing. I was afraid that the authorities would decide that I was incapable of looking after our sons alone and would take them away from me. I was a lost man, Lucille._

_Then I wrote that first letter. I was able to pour everything into it. How I loved you. How I missed you. How I wished you were with me. And even how I hated you for leaving me despite the fact that it wasn't your fault._

_When I'd finished that letter, somehow I felt better, I felt stronger. I felt that, finally, I was going to be able to cope. My whole outlook changed, I became more positive and because of that life became more positive. I got a job… a career. I – we – had a future._

_I'd use these letters to express my concerns and fears for the boys. I always tried to support them and encourage them. I wanted them to know that I would always be there for them. And I would tell you how I was frightened for them. How I was scared that one of them was making the wrong decision. They never did, and I'm glad that I was able to tell you, rather than inhibiting them and maybe turning them against me._

_I hope you are proud of them, because I am. Each and every one._

_Remember how I wrote to you and told of my plans for International Rescue? Even before I'd mentioned them to a single living soul, I'd told you. It was only fair, because it was your death that inspired me._

_Even now, when they are out on a rescue and I am thousands of miles away from them, and painfully aware that they are in danger, these letters help me get through the long lonely hours, waiting for news… Waiting to hear that they will all be coming home safe and sound._

_And if one of them wasn't, if one of them was injured, these letters allowed me to express my fears and doubts, while remaining strong for the others._

_You were the only person I was ever able to talk like this to. These letters give me that link to you. _

_I can't confide my worries to Ma. I can't increase her burden. She worries herself and she's an old woman. I know she's an old woman, because often over the last week or so I've felt that I'm an old man. I've felt so helpless. _

_I know we all have._

_I could talk to Kyrano. But his viewpoint on the world is so different to mine. Complementary, but different. He's a good, loyal friend. But I could never say to him what I say to you._

_Brains and Tin-Tin are too young to understand._

_You know why I'm writing this letter, don't you?_

_Virgil. _

_It's as if he's died and his ghost is haunting us. We can see him, we reach out to him, but we can't quite touch him…_

_That evening when I stepped into Thunderbird Two alone, was one of the few times in the years since you died, when I was glad that you weren't at my side. I walked into the sickbay and there he was. Our son. And he didn't recognise me. I had to tell him who I was. It was hard, Lucille, so hard. He looked helpless… lost and frightened... Terrified. He was so terrified that he was visibly shaking. If you'd seen him you would have reached out and hugged him. _

_And he would have pulled away from you._

_That would have hurt you, and I couldn't have stood that._

_I don't remember Virgil ever being frightened. I think the boy was born fearless. I can't remember him having nightmares as a child. He would toddle along after his big brother Scott, faithfully following him into situations far beyond anything anyone his age should go. Knowing that his big brother would look after him, and in later years, that he would be there to look after his big brother._

_I can see Scott now. He's trying not to let it show, but I can see that Virgil's amnesia is causing him a lot of emotional pain. He's lost his sidekick, his confidant…_

_His friend._

_He's trying to deal with this situation in his own way. I don't agree with the course he's chosen, but have you ever tried to change Scott's mind, Lucille? I've been hoping that he'll realise that he's made an error of judgement. So far he's convinced that he's doing the right thing._

_He's trying not to be jealous of Gordon, but every now and then there's a look in his eye…_

'_Why Gordon? Why not me?'_

_He pretends that he's okay with the situation. That he'll willingly give Virgil the space he needs, so that Virgil won't suffer any more than he is now. He's hoping that soon the Virgil he knew will return to him._

_We're all hoping that._

_Gordon is bemused. He can't understand why Virgil's relying on him so much. Despite this he's trying to be the support that Virgil needs, even though it's taking it out of him. He hasn't had a good night's sleep since they came home from that mudslide. Every night Virgil's woken in terror and every night Gordon's been the only one able to console him._

_These last few nights he's slept in Virgil's room. We've all hoped that they'd both get a good night's sleep. _

_It hasn't worked._

_Gordon's exhausted and it's starting to impact on his health and judgement._

_If, by some chance you are able to choose to visit us in our dreams, I have a request. I would willingly forgo ever dreaming of you again, if you would visit Virgil tonight and bring him a restful sleep. Let his dreams tonight be ones of peace, not of terror. Please, Lucille, if you can do this… For both Virgil's and Gordon's sakes…_

_I'm sorry. I had no right to ask you that._

_Was I right in insisting that John return to Thunderbird Five? Should he have been left up there alone this past month? Maybe he's the lucky one. Up there in space he's remote from the pain the rest of us are feeling. We give him progress reports. Maybe it doesn't seem totally real to him. _

_I had hoped that by the time he's finished his tour of duty and has been replaced by Alan, things would be back to normal. I had hoped that at least one of our boys wouldn't have to experience the pain that we are living with daily._

_He comes home tomorrow and nothing is normal._

_We're all walking around pretending that everything's okay. We're all pretending that we're getting used to the situation that we find ourselves in._

_We're all lying to each other and to ourselves._

_Initially Alan wanted to run away to Thunderbird Five. He struggled with this as much as any of us, maybe in some respects more so. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but we all know that he thinks he's losing Tin-Tin to Virgil. Now he's fighting with me to let him remain at home. He doesn't want to return to Thunderbird Five tomorrow._

_Of my – sorry -, OUR five sons, Alan is the least able to hide his emotions. I see anger and fear in his face whenever Tin-Tin is helping Virgil with his reading. I see the shock in his face each time he realises that here's something else that Virgil has forgotten. We all feel that shock, but we try to hide it. With Alan, it's there for the world, and Virgil, to see._

_And Virgil hates it._

_He feels guilty even though Alan's pain isn't his fault._

'_No, but I'm the cause,' he'd say._

_Tin-Tin's been fantastic. It's as if Virgil's condition has brought out the mothering instinct in her. She's always willing to help him. She spends hours with him, patiently teaching him how to read again. She's even used those books I bought… The ones called 'The International Rescue Tales.' The boys hate them. Scott thinks the picture of Thunderbird One looks like a pencil with wings. They refuse to touch them._

_But at least with Tin-Tin my money hasn't been wasted._

_I know. You're sitting there thinking, 'you're a multi-billionaire, Jeff Tracy. It won't hurt you to waste money on a few children's books for your son.' But that's how I made my money, Lucille, by being careful with it. It's one of those things I've had to learn since your death… and it's a hard habit to break._

_If there's one thing that has saddened me above everything in this whole sorry affair, it's the way our boys haven't been willing to help Virgil with his reading. I can forgive Gordon; he's doing plenty and he needs a break. John's offered, but there's little he can do while he's on Thunderbird Five. He says he's got plenty of time for a little 'one on one tutoring', but the commuting distance is too great. And I think Virgil needs to be in familiar surroundings… at least surroundings that should be familiar._

_But both Scott and Alan have been unwilling to help… for differing reasons…_

_I suppose I can't talk. This last week or so I've been nearly as bad. You see I know something, something that's changed the way I am able to look at my… our son._

_There's a folder locked away in the desk in my study. A folder that may hold the answer to our prayers…_

_Or the start of another nightmare._

_It claims to have a cure for Virgil's amnesia, but I can't bring myself to think about it, let alone suggest we use it. As I try to tutor Virgil, and I look at him and think 'am I doing the right thing? Should I tell him?', I feel guilty. I want to help him, but I can't… Not that way…_

_Am I wrong Lucille?_

_Am I wrong to ignore this solution? _

_Am I wrong not to tell anyone about it?_

_Am I wrong to keep International Rescue going?_

_I could have shut it down, but I didn't. Our world may appear to be falling apart, but we still have Virgil with us. If International Rescue were not available to help, perhaps some other family would not be as lucky as we are._

_And Virgil would never forgive me if I'd allowed someone to die because of him._

_I don't know how he's managed to cope. He gives the illusion that he's coming to terms with it all, but there are still signs that he's not comfortable. I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but I've come to realise that nothing is 'his'. He retires to THE bedroom. He's going to get A jacket. It's as if he feels that nothing in this house belongs to him. _

_He refers to Thunderbird Two as it and not she. She's just another plane to him._

_He calls his grandmother 'Ma'am', and I am 'Sir'. What I would give to hear my son call me 'Father' once again and mean it. It's as if… as if… Sorry, Lucille. It's as if he still doesn't quite believe that we are his family._

_Ma's trying her best. She's cooking all his favourite foods. She's even going back through her old diaries to see what we ate on special days. Like tonight we're having the same meal we had before his graduation. She's hoping that the tastes and smells will reignite the related memories. All that happens is he politely smiles and says 'That was delicious'. Nothing more._

_He's still the kind, caring and polite person that he always was. I don't know if that's because what we taught him is so ingrained in him that even amnesia can't suppress it. Or is it because that's his natural personality?_

_But there's one thing that has changed in him. One part of his personality that's changed…_

_He's frightened, Lucille. He can't understand what's happened to him. Why it's happened to him. I think he lives in constant fear._

_I see his fear and feel even more guilty._

_And I avoid him._

_I'm running away, Lucille. I'm running away from our son at a time when he needs me more than he ever has. Maybe even more than when you died._

_There's the odd glimpse of the old Virgil we knew. Mannerisms are still there. I heard him laugh today and it's his laugh. He's still drawn to music. He's re-discovering his drawing and painting abilities._

_But it's as if everything that meant anything to him has been wiped from his mind and is having to be re-learnt._

_If I were detached from it all it would be interesting to stand back and observe. But I'm not. Like it or not, I'm involved._

_I miss my son…_

"Dad?"

"Sorry, Alan. I didn't see you there."

"Grandma said to remind you that dinner's ready."

"Thanks. I'll be along in a minute."

"Sorry to interrupt your letter. From the frown on your face it looks like it's an important one."

"It is, Alan. I'll finish it first. Tell everyone to start without me. I'll be there shortly."

"Okay. I'll tell Grandma."

_Sorry, Lucille. I was interrupted there. Life goes on. Every day is a new day. Every day I wake up hoping that Virgil is back with us._

_Every day is a disappointment._

_I must go. I've got to go and pretend that this is just another ordinary dinner in just another ordinary day._

_Even though I know, and they know, it's not._

_I've got to pretend that I'm strong._

_Even though I want to run and hide from this nightmare._

_I miss you, my darling. I don't know how many times I told you that I loved you when you were alive, but however many times it was it wasn't enough._

_I shall love you until the day that we are together again… and beyond._

_My heart is yours forever._

_Love_

_Jeff_


	13. Thirteen

** Thirteen**

"Gordon… Are you in here?"

"Alan?"

"Yep."

"Are you alone?"

"Yep."

"Thank heavens for that. How'd you find me?"

"When you leave a note on Dad's desk, in full view, saying you've gone up to the caves, you're pretty easy to find."

Gordon chuckled.

Alan swung his torch around until it lit up his brother. He made his way over the rocky ground and found a flat rock beside Gordon to sit on. "So… Why are you here? Why not somewhere on the beach in the light?" He switched off the torch and waited for his eyes to become adjusted to the gloom.

"Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Of course."

"I'm hiding from Virgil. He doesn't know about this place, I haven't brought him here yet."

"You're hiding from Virgil?"

"I know, it sounds awful, but I needed a break."

Alan frowned in the darkness. "Huh?"

"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I'm able to help him. But I needed some time to do something that I wanted to do, not something that will help him as well."

"And what you wanted to do was hide in a cold, dark cave?"

Gordon was silent in the darkness.

"Gordon?" Alan prompted.

"No. I wanted to escape from him."

Alan heard Gordon give a sigh. "So you were hoping to get in a little quality time by yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Well don't worry. I won't break your cover. The only problem is everyone else will know where you are when they go past Dad's desk."

"Yeah. But so long as they don't tell Virgil I'm safe. He can't read well enough yet, especially when the words are written backwards. And I can be found if there's an emergency."

"What do you think your wristwatch communicator's for?"

Gordon chuckled. "Believe it or not I didn't consider that. I must be really tired."

"What you need is something to take your mind off things."

"Such as?"

"You haven't played any practical jokes in a while."

"I haven't had the opportunity. I haven't even had the time or energy to plan anything."

"So here's your opportunity. I'll help. Let's plan something against Virgil. He's an ideal target at the moment."

"Alan! I wouldn't!"

"Neither would I. But you can't tell me that the idea hasn't crossed you mind. We'll sit here and come up with a few hypothetical ideas."

"A little hypothetical revenge."

"If you like."

They spent the next half-hour hatching out plans, working out scenarios and devising details. Eventually Gordon grew tired of brainstorming. "What's the use of these plans if we're never going to use them?"

"Regard it as harmless therapy. Next time you feel like telling Virgil where to go, you can smile sweetly and imagine his face when he finds you've swapped rooms." Alan shone a light onto his watch. "We'd better start thinking about getting back. Feeling more relaxed?"

"Yeah, thanks, Alan." Then Gordon gave a mischievous snicker. "I just thought of another one. I could tell him that Tin-Tin's got a crush on him."

He couldn't see Alan's face harden. "You what?"

"Relax. I've already told him she's off limits."

"Why?"

"Way back at the beginning he made some comment about her being pretty, and I told him we regard her as a sister, nothing more. He accepted that and hasn't said anything since, so I guess he's forgotten about it."

"Hmmn," Alan said darkly as he checked his watch again. "I've got to pack my bags ready for this afternoon. Are you coming back with me?"

Gordon heard him stand and could just make out his outline change position. "Yes, I guess I'd better," he said reluctantly as he stood, stretched, and started walking towards the dim light from the cave's entrance.

Alan tagged along beside his brother. "I guess things'll be different, one way or another, when I get back from Thunderbird Five."

"I hope so. Fingers crossed that we've got the old Virgil back, huh."

"Fingers crossed."

* * *

Virgil sat alone up at the lookout. He often came up here. Sometimes it seemed to be the only place on the island where he could find something approaching peace with himself and his situation. Sometimes it felt as if he'd only been alive for a single month, with only one month of memories to hold onto.

The strain was beginning to show – on everyone. People were getting scratchy. They were all trying to help, but Virgil felt that none of them really wanted to. They wanted him to go away.

That included Gordon. Virgil had noticed that recently he would ask for Gordon's help and a resigned expression would cross the redhead's face briefly before the usual relaxed countenance would reappear.

Gordon was clearly growing tired of his role as protector.

Virgil was saddened by the thought that their friendship was becoming strained. He looked out at the horizon and thought about the other people in his life. He tried analysing his relationship with each of them.

Alan:

They'd started off okay. Once Alan had got over the fear of the amnesia, they'd become friends. But over the last few weeks, friendliness had turned to something else. It was as if Alan couldn't trust Virgil. As if he were suspicious of him for some reason.

And Virgil had no idea why.

John:

Virgil had liked John during the short time they'd been together. John had been friendly, and caring, and helpful, and understanding…

And then he was taken away. Sent back to 'Thunderbird Five'.

Why was it necessary for one man to remain alone in a space station that received and relayed emergency messages?

Virgil couldn't answer that one.

Jeff Tracy:

His father?

Why did he always think that as if it were a question?

Virgil had liked his… father. He'd felt safe around him when it had felt as if the rest of the world were spinning out of control. He'd liked him as a man, and for his principles and caring manner…

A manner that had changed over the last couple of weeks. Jeff Tracy was becoming distracted and somewhat aloof whenever he was around Virgil. While tutoring him in his reading, the lessons had become shorter and less entertaining.

It was as if Jeff Tracy was ashamed to be near him and was in a rush to get away. Was he ashamed of a son who couldn't even read properly?

Virgil wondered if he was ashamed of something else.

Grandma Tracy:

A kindly, caring old soul, who would make the most mouth watering concoctions, and then would look at Virgil as if expecting him to react in some way that he was unable to, and then move away…

Clearly she'd taken to heart the way he'd reacted when they first met…

'First' met?

Like so many others in this group she avoided him. Maybe not to the extreme of some, but she kept her distance, careful not to touch him in any way. It sometimes meant some strange contortions on her part, but it seemed to keep her happy…

And made Virgil feel guilty.

Brains:

What a strange name. If he was so clever why couldn't he come up with a cure for amnesia?

The only time Virgil really got to see Brains was for meals and when the latter put some new gadget on his head in hopes of finding a cure for the condition.

Virgil wasn't able to put much faith into Brains' inventions.

Kyrano:

Virgil felt that he didn't really know Kyrano. He knew he was Tin-Tin's father. He knew he was Jeff Tracy's servant. He knew Kyrano was very, very inscrutable.

That was all Virgil knew.

Virgil stretched his back, rubbed his neck, and ran through the list of people. Had he missed anyone out…?

Scott.

His closest brother?

It wasn't as if Scott was avoiding him. It was as if…

Who was he kidding? Scott was avoiding him. All through this last month people had been telling him how close he and Scott had been and yet Scott was doing all he could to keep some kind of barrier between them. He was never unfriendly or cold, but he was never friendly or welcoming either.

Maybe Scott didn't like him now that he had amnesia. Maybe something about him had changed so much that Scott couldn't stand it. Maybe…

Maybe it was a lie.

Maybe he and Scott hadn't been that close…

Maybe Scott didn't know Virgil.

Maybe none of them did.

In summary, the way Virgil saw it, Gordon was getting sick of him, Scott was avoiding him, Alan was suspicious, and John was simply absent. Jeff Tracy was aloof, Mrs Tracy was uncomfortable, Kyrano was inscrutable, and Brains wasn't that brainy.

Only Tin-Tin appeared to genuinely want to help.

Virgil couldn't help smiling when he thought of her. She was always cheerful, always ready to give him her time, always willing to be his friend.

Virgil needed to know that he had a friend. It was a source of comfort to him.

A source of comfort in the midst of this inescapable nightmare.

Sometimes he found the urge to escape almost unbearable. At those times, he'd either retreat to the studio to work on the Traceset, or to practise on the keyboard. Yesterday, after a long practise session he'd actually plucked up the courage to try playing a tune he'd heard on the radio on the baby grand in the lounge. He'd impressed himself with his own abilities.

Or else, if things were really pressing in on him, he'd head up here, away from the reminders of what he didn't know, into the fresh air and try to work out his frustrations on paper.

He looked down at the sketchpad and compared its scene with that spread out before him. He was reasonably satisfied with the result. The palm trees looked realistic, the beach seemed to be at the right perspective, and he'd got the sunlight glinting off the waters just right. The only thing missing were the filmy tendrils of smoke that were rising from the Round House. He started to sketch them in and then stopped, his brow creased in thought.

He looked back at the Round House. He couldn't think of any reason why there should be smoke coming from there. There were no chimneys or fireplaces that he could recollect. He was sure that it must be made of fire retardant material to withstand the intense heat of Thunderbird Three's rockets. And that hadn't been launched since John had gone back to Thunderbird Five… or wherever.

So why the smoke?

Curiosity aroused, he set off along the path towards the distinctively shaped building.

The smoke was quite thick in places by the time he got there, and was clearly seeping through gaps in several open windows.

Not sure what else to do he ran around to the steps leading up to the door. Once there he stopped. He placed the back of his hand on the door, feeling for heat – a sign of fire.

The door was cool to his touch.

As he stopped to consider his next action he heard a sound from inside.

The sound of a body falling heavily.

Now Virgil was worried. He banged on the door and shouted.

There was no reply.

The door was still cool, but he was reluctant to risk opening it in case the sudden intake of air caused the fire to flare up and out at him.

But if someone was in there… In trouble…

He ran back down the steps and found a sturdy branch. He raced back up and stopped, ducking down several steps below the level and to the right of the door. Using the branch as an extension of his hand, he pushed the button that slid the door back.

Smoke poured outwards and upwards as the door hissed open.

There was no sign of fire.

Greatly relieved, Virgil took a deep breath and crawled under the blinding smoke into the building. He was sure that he wouldn't have far to go…

He was right. His searching fingertips came across an outstretched hand. He moved further forward, grabbed some clothing and pulled the body back towards the door and fresh air. Now he was able to see who the victim was…

Tin-Tin's face was pale, and she didn't appear to be breathing.

Eager to get her away from the acrid smoke, he automatically pulled her into a fireman's lift and carried her to the ground at the base of the steps. Already his mind was going through the steps of coronary pulmonary resuscitation.

Check the airway is clear…

Check whether the patient is breathing…

Check the circulation…

He laid her gently on the ground…

"M-M-M-Mr T-T-T-T!" Brains ran into the lounge.

Jeff looked up. "What, Brains?"

"S-S-S-S," Brains stopped in frustration. "F-F-F-F… R-R-R-R…"

"Whoa," Jeff rounded the desk and placed his hands on his friend's shoulders. "Calm down! Take a deep breath… Now, what's wrong?"

"S-S-Smoke!" Brains managed to gasp out.

At once Jeff became concerned. "Where?"

Scott was on his feet, his mind already preparing a plan of action. His brothers were poised, ready for his command.

"R-R-Round House."

"What!"

"T-T-Tin-T-T…"

"Tin-Tin's there?" Alan asked in alarm.

Brains nodded.

"Let's go!" Scott ordered.

"Boys…!" Jeff started to say, but they'd already departed to their emergency stations. "Well… I guess I'm not in charge at the moment. Do you want to head up to the Round House, Brains? I'll let Mother know, and… I don't want to worry Kyrano unnecessarily, but he should be told. I'll take care of that too."

"Y-Yes, Mr Tracy."

"Okay. I'll meet you there shortly…"

Much to Virgil's relief, Tin-Tin had started coughing as soon as he placed her on the ground, so he rolled her into the recovery position. Her hair fell over her eyes and he tenderly brushed it back and tucked it behind her ear.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Virgil?" she coughed again.

"Relax. You're safe."

"What…" she appeared to remember what had happened. "How'd I get out?"

"I pulled you out. How are you feeling?"

"Okay…"

Worried, Virgil glanced back up at the building. Smoke was still pouring out of the door. "Is anyone else in there?" he asked.

"No." Tin-Tin shook her head and attempted to sit up.

"Take it easy, Honey," Virgil said anxiously. "Just lie there a bit."

"No, I'm okay," Tin-Tin protested, and managed to get into a sitting position.

The wind changed direction. They were smothered in a suffocating wall of smoke. Tin-Tin started choking again.

"Come on, let's get you away from here," Virgil coughed. He picked her up and carried her to a convenient flat rock upwind of the Round House. "Comfortable?" he asked as he supported her, letting her lean against his arm.

"Yes. Thank you…"

There was a roar from three hoverbikes driven by men wearing fire resistant coveralls.

Scott cut the power to his 'bike and jumped off, grabbing a first aid kit. "Gordon! Check the perimeter!" He ran over to where the two people were sitting. "Tin-Tin! Are you okay? What happened?" he was untangling an oxygen mask as he said this and pressed it over her face, pulling the strap back over her head. Alan hovered about anxiously.

"I don't know," she replied, the mask fogging up as she spoke. "I was checking the alarm system when the place filled up with smoke."

"Any flames?"

"No."

"Gordon!" Scott called. "Anything?"

"Negative. No external sign of fire, but there's a heck of a lot of smoke."

"Okay. Get the equipment! We're going in! Alan! You stay here. Keep an eye on Tin-Tin… Also keep checking the perimeter for any sign of fire or any increase in the amount of smoke. Let me know immediately if you spot any…" Another hoverbike levitated into view. "Ah, good… Brains! Help Tin-Tin will you! Come on, Gordon." The pair of them donned their protective helmets and mounted the steps to the smoke consumed doorway.

Brains dismounted and retrieved his more extensive first-aid kit from the storage compartment. He placed a vital signs monitor on Tin-Tin's wrist. "S-Seems normal," he said, taking the reading. "How's your breathing feeling?"

"I'm okay, Brains," Tin-Tin reassured him.

Brains smiled. "I-I'll let Mr Tracy and your father know." He retrieved a transmitter from his kit.

Tin-Tin went to remove the oxygen mask.

"L-Leave it on," Brains advised. "At least until we get back to the house."

Alan finished a circuit of the Round House. He saw nothing out of the ordinary until he came upon the little tableaux again. He scowled at Virgil who still had his arm about Tin-Tin.

He was about to say something when another hoverbike roared into the scene. Jeff Tracy dismounted…

"See anything, Gordon?" Scott asked.

"Negative." Gordon peered through the image that was projected onto the visor of his helmet. With this device the smoke was invisible to them while their surroundings were standing out clearly. "What do you think caused it?"

"Don't know. I'm more concerned about why we weren't alerted when the fire first started," Scott stated as he moved forward slowly. "The alarms can't have been working. They should have been ringing the house down!"

"Yeah. That's not good. We're lucky it didn't happen in one of the sleeping quarters at night."

"Keep looking. If we can find out what's wrong, we can prevent it happening again."

They kept up their slow procession checking the main hallway and the rooms leading off. They came to an open panel in the wall and a pile of tools on the floor.

"Must be where Tin-Tin was working?" Gordon suggested.

"Why was she up here?" Scott asked. "She said something about checking the alarm system? Why?"

"Don't know."

"Why were you up here, Tin-Tin?" Jeff asked.

"I was doing some routine checks on the safety systems," she replied through the oxygen mask. "I discovered that there was a fault in the fire alarm up here."

Brains nodded in agreement. "Sh-She came up here to repair it."

"Did you find what was wrong?" Jeff asked.

Tin-Tin shook her head, the oxygen line rattling against its canister. "I'd only just opened the main control box, when I became aware of smoke. It must have started on the far side of the building. Like an idiot I thought I could outrun it. I know I should have crawled, but I thought…" she shrugged hopelessly.

"How'd you get out?" Alan asked.

His father looked at him. "I thought you were checking the perimeter."

"It's all clear. I wanted to check that Tin-Tin was okay."

"I'm fine, Alan," she smiled at him through the mist of oxygen. "Virgil saved me."

Embarrassed, Virgil saw four pair of eyes turn to him. "I didn't do anything special. Just pulled her out."

"I'd collapsed," Tin-Tin admitted.

Brains frowned and checked her VSM again.

Scott and Gordon examined the area around where Tin-Tin had been working and found nothing amiss. They continued on.

Scott opened up a radio link. "Anything we should be aware of, Alan?"

"Negative. We're all clear out here."

"How's Tin-Tin?"

"She's fine."

Scott stopped in his tracks. There was something in the way that Alan had said 'she's fine' that didn't ring true. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Alan said abruptly.

Scott and Gordon looked at each other and shrugged. They continued following the curved layout of the building.

"Hello! What's this?" Gordon turned his heat locator towards the wall.

"What have you found?"

"A definite hotspot. Have you got a reading?"

"Yep." Scott was examining his own heat locator. "It's pretty localised."

"It's also behind this panel," Gordon felt along the panel's edge.

"Got the extinguisher ready?" Scott asked. "I'm going to break through."

"F-A-B."

Scott made short work of the wall and exposed the interior cavity. The meter registering the amount of smoke in the room escalated sharply. "No sign of any fire,' he grunted. "But it's sure hot in here."

Gordon pointed his extinguisher into the cavity and gave it a burst. Almost immediately their sensors showed a dramatic decrease in the levels of smoke and heat.

Scott cautiously peered back into the hole. "The wiring's charred. Must be where it started."

"So what caused it?" Gordon asked impatiently.

"I – don't – know," Scott said slowly. "I can't see… Hang on!"

"What!"

"Here's the culprit," Scott reached inside and pulled something out.

"Well! The little devil! He won't be doing that again," Gordon exclaimed.

"How'd it get in here?" Scott asked. "I thought we'd done a good job in sealing this place."

"Obviously not good enough… Shall I foam it?"

Scott stood back. "Go to it."

Gordon took up another canister and sprayed into the wall. The foam that was ejected quickly congealed and hardened, sealing the damaged wiring and preventing oxygen from getting in. "There we go," he said in satisfaction, "International Rescue saves the day again."

They double-checked the interior of the building, ensuring that there were no other hotspots.

Scott looked around. "We'll have a heck of a clean up job in here. There'll be soot everywhere!"

"Well don't start ordering people around when we do it. Virgil's probably convinced now that you're some kind of tyrant."

"Tyrant? What's that supposed to mean?"

"The way you were ordering us about before we came in here…"

"That's my job!" Scott said indignantly. "Doesn't matter whether the rescue is at home or in deepest Mongolia, my job is to co-ordinate and that means giving orders!"

"I know that! But I wish you'd give Virgil a chance to get to know you better, and not just as Genghis Khan."

"Genghis… Now look, Gordon! Do you think you could do a better job as Rescue Co-ordinator?"

"No. And I would never suggest that I attempt to. But I wish you'd stop running away from him."

"Running away? I've never run away from anyone or anything in my life!" Scott protested angrily.

"You could have fooled me. Anyone would think you didn't like him!"

"You know why I…"

"You know there's not a person on this island who would mind if you'd take a more active role in helping him," Gordon continued on.

"I can think of one person who'd be against it," Scott muttered darkly as he started to pick up their discarded gear.

Gordon watched him for a moment. "Can I tell you something, Scott?"

Scott was concentrating on packing some of the equipment into his bag. "Shoot," he said absently.

"You're not going to like it."

"What have you done? Put glue on Thunderbird One's seat?"

"No. I…" there was no hint of humour in Gordon's voice. "Promise you won't get mad with me?"

Still crouched on the floor, Scott looked up at him. "This sounds serious."

"I guess you could say it is…"

Scott waited patiently.

Gordon took a deep breath and plunged in. "I sometimes wish he'd died."

Scott froze. Then he straightened and looked at his brother. "You what? Who?"

"Virgil," Gordon said quietly. "Instead of getting amnesia I wish… sometimes… I wish he'd died instead."

"Whoa!" Scott exclaimed. "Back the truck up. I can't have heard you properly. You wish he was dead?"

"No. I'm glad he's alive, but… But sometimes I wish he'd died." Gordon watched Scott's features darken in anger. "Don't hate me," he pleaded.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"I just think… that… if he'd died we'd be starting to get over it by now. It's been nearly a month."

"I don't understand," Scott was struggling to maintain his temper.

"Look at us all. We're in a kind of limbo. While Virgil's still got amnesia and is still with us, we know something's wrong and we keep on hoping that it'll right itself. But we can't live as we normally did. If he'd died we'd have accepted it by now."

"Accepted it…?" Scott's voice had a dangerous quality to it. "Do you remember when Ma died…?"

"No I…"

"…Because if you did you'd know that it takes longer than a month to get over something like that. It's something you never recover from. I don't believe you, Gordon! He's your brother. He's OUR brother!"

"It's not that I want him dead. I… I love him, like a brother," Gordon tried to smile an ingratiating grin through his protective mask.

"You're tired, Gordon!"

"No I'm not. I'm exhausted! I haven't had an uninterrupted nights sleep in a month! That's what I'm on about!"

"I'm getting out of here," Scott snarled. "I'm not going to listen to any more of this! I don't even want to think about it." He took a step and then whirled round back onto his brother. "And if I hear you've mentioned this to another soul, I'll… I'll do something to you that you'll never find in a manual of good leadership. Something that Genghis Khan would have been very familiar with." He began to stalk towards the door.

"Scott…"

"I can't believe it!"

"Scott…"

"Dead!"

"Scott!"

Scott winced as his eardrums were assaulted by the shout, amplified by the speakers in his hood. He spun back, dropping some of his equipment. "What!"

"Don't storm off like this. Listen to me."

"What do you want, Gordon? Absolution? Do you want me to say it's okay to wish that Virgil were dead? Because it's not gonna happen!"

"No! What I want is to stop thinking like this! I want to be able to have a good night's sleep! I want to know that life is as it always was! I want you to stop feeling sorry for yourself! I want you to help more! I want this nightmare to end!"

Scott looked at his brother whose voice had risen to such a pitch that it seemed that he might break down at any moment. "We've got to get out of here. They'll all be wondering what we're doing."

"No, they'll think we're triple checking everything. Please let me explain. I don't want you mad at me like this."

"Fine! Explain! You've got until I get to the door. After that I don't want to hear another word!" Scott picked up his dropped articles and began trekking back along the hallway.

Gordon ran after him and grabbed his shoulder. "Listen to me! You must realise how this is tearing us apart! Just give me five minutes."

Scott gave an irritated sigh and placed his bag on the floor. "You've got two."

"Okay." Relieved, Gordon took a deep breath. "Do you realise that I haven't played a practical joke in the past month…"

"Is that what this is about? You're feeling sorry for yourself? Well sorry, Gordon, but I'm not interested." Scott picked up the bag and turned for the door.

Gordon ran round and placed himself in Scott's way. "No! It's not only about me. There's you as well…"

"Don't bring me into this! It's not me who wants our brother dead!"

"You're already involved. You're treating Virgil as if he's a leper and you're scared to go near him. As a result you're in a bad mood all the time and you take it out on the rest of us."

"I'm not scared…"

"Yes you are. You're scared you'll upset him. You're scared you bring on another of those attacks, whatever they were. Do you realise that he hasn't had one in weeks?"

"Shows I'm doing the right thing then."

"Rubbish, Scott. Those attacks were coincidence, pure and simple. Nothing to do with you."

"I wish I was sure of that."

"And there's not only the way we've been behaving. There's Alan as well. You've seen how he looks when Virgil and Tin-Tin are together."

The bag slipped from Scott's fingers again. "Yes."

"And John… He's been lucky being up in Thunderbird Five away from all this…"

"I've been giving him updates."

"So have I. But an update is nothing compared with being involved in the situation. It's going to be a heck of a shock to him to find out how we're all not coping. And Dad…"

Scott looked sharply at Gordon. Now he was prepared to listen.

"…You must have realised how strained he's become over the last few days. He's trying to pretend everything's normal, but we both know the stresses he's under. At some point he's going to explode in one way or another, and I don't want to be around when that happens… And Grandma…"

Scott held up a hand. "Okay, Gordon. I've got the picture," he said quietly.

"It's just that every now and then I look at us all, and remember how we were, and wish things were the same as they'd always been."

"I wish that too, but trust me, Gordon, Virgil's death wouldn't have solved our problems. It would have created a whole lot of new ones."

"I know," Gordon said sheepishly. "That's why I wanted to talk to you. I had to get it off my chest… I've been feeling guilty… I don't want him dead. I'm glad he's still with us, but I want… I NEED to know that things will get better." He looked back at his big brother. "Do you understand now?"

Scott nodded sombrely. "Believe it or not, I do. I don't agree with your solution, but I do understand."

"You're not mad with me?"

Scott shook his head and started walking on slowly. "You've been under a heck of a lot of strain haven't you?"

Gordon nodded and followed. "I'm not cut out to act as big brother to my big brother. That's your role! Or John's."

"Well, John's back tomorrow. Maybe he'll be able to help you."

"Or you could…"

Scott shook his head regretfully. "No I couldn't."

They stopped.

"Well, here's the door," Gordon said, trying to sound as if they'd just had a friendly chat over coffee… "Thanks for listening. I'm sorry if I upset you."

"You startled me, that's all. That's the last thing I would have expected you to say."

"You don't hate me?"

Scott shook his head. "No, Gordon. I don't hate you. Do you feel better now?"

"No…" Gordon said sadly. "Not really. The nightmare's continuing on, isn't it? But," he straightened his shoulders decisively, "I'm not going to let myself think anything so horrible again."

"Good," Scott said firmly. "Once we're through this door, the whole subject's forgotten. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Scott."

"Smiles on. Nothing's wrong. We've dealt with nothing more serious than some barbequed wiring. Right?"

Gordon plastered a smile to his face. "Right!"

The door slid open. They emerged into the daylight. Everyone was looking at them as they removed their helmets.

Almost everyone.

"Well, that's another job well done," Gordon said cheerfully.

Scott looked at the faces regarding them. None of them looked especially happy. They were registering varying degrees of disapproval, dismay, or in Tin-Tin's case, disgust. Worriedly he crouched down so he could get closer. "How are you feeling, Honey."

"Fine," she said bluntly.

He was taken aback by the curtness of her reply. "What's wrong?"

Jeff took the communications unit from Scott's waist. "I thought you knew procedures better, Scott." His voice was quietly angry as flicked a switch from 'transmit only' and snapped the microphone button to the off position.

"You mean you heard…" Scott turned his attention to Virgil who was studiously examining the moss on a rock.

"Oh, heck," Gordon said quietly. "I guess it sounded pretty bad. I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you try to warn us?" Scott asked.

"I wanted Virgil to hear first hand how you two work together," Jeff said coldly. "We heard more than we expected. If that's an example of how you normally carry on during an emergency, I'm not impressed."

"Sorry," Scott said meekly.

No one said anything for a full minute.

"So… what caused the fire?" Alan asked with forced cheeriness.

Scott held out his hand. Lying in his palm were the charred and mangled remains of an insect slightly smaller than a mouse. "A dolgeta." He dropped it to the ground.

"Decided to snack on the wiring did it?" Alan's tone still sounded false as he tried to relieve the tension in the atmosphere. "I don't know why those beasts have a taste for electrical items."

"Dolgetios Tracii," Brains explained hastily, also trying to fill the void the silence had created. "Th-They are endemic to this i-island, N-No mice occur here naturally, and dolgetas have evolved to fill their niche. Th-They are omnivorous and will eat a-almost anything. Unfortunately they are drawn to wires, and c-circuit boards, which is why we sealed all the buildings when we built them. I must examine the R-Round House thoroughly and find the entrance point. It'll take some t-time and I will need help…"

No one appeared to be listening to him and he lapsed back into an uneasy silence wondering if it would be tactful to leave quietly.

Tin-Tin wasn't worried about being tactful as she stood abruptly. "I'm going back to the house," she said brusquely. Then she turned to the man crouched at her side and gave him a grateful smile "Will you help me with the oxygen cylinder, Virgil?"

Before Virgil had a chance to stand up or reply, Alan pushed between them, causing his brother to fall backwards. "I'll do that!" He picked the cylinder up.

"But I asked Virgil," Tin-Tin insisted, reaching out to help him to his feet. "He's the one who saved me. I want to thank him when I've got rid of this mask."

"Can't you thank him with it on?" Alan asked anxiously.

"It's okay," Virgil mumbled. "You help her, Alan. I… I've got to go find the sketchpad anyway… I dropped it somewhere." He briefly raised his face to the surrounding group, but didn't look Gordon in the eye.

Gordon suddenly found himself wishing he could crawl into a dolgeta's burrow.

Virgil lowered his eyes back to the ground, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned away. "Virgil!" Tin-Tin protested, but he was already walking slowly back down the path.

Everyone looked accusingly at Alan whose expression was a mixture of defiance and shame. "Don't blame me! I didn't wish him dead!"

Gordon groaned. "I didn't mean it!" he protested.

"Leave Gordon alone, Alan," Scott ordered. "You don't understand."

"And you do? You've hardly spent 10 minutes with Virgil for the past month!"

"I've done that for him…"

"Really!"

"Oh!" Angrily Tin-Tin tore off the oxygen mask. "You… Men!"

"Tin-Tin!" Brains protested.

"I'm alright, Brains! I don't need that thing." She turned on the Tracy boys. "It's not Virgil who needs reminding that you're his brothers! It's you three!" She stomped over to where Virgil had discarded the pad earlier and found the pencil nearby. She picked them up and thrust them at Gordon. "You'd better apologise…!" He accepted them guiltily as she rounded on the other two Tracy brothers. "All three of you! I'm going home!"

"Can I help you down the path, Tin-Tin?" Alan asked.

"Leave me alone, Alan! I don't need your help." Tin-Tin turned her back on him. "Virgil!" she called. "Wait!"

He stopped when he heard her call and reluctantly turned back. He waited for her to catch up with him, which she did quickly, slightly out of breath.

"You should be taking it easy," he told her. "Not running after me."

"I wanted to say thank you," she insisted.

He waved her thanks away. "It was nothing. Anyone would have done it. Any of them."

"But it wasn't them, it was you." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Virgil."

Virgil reddened in embarrassment, touched his cheek, and took a step backwards nearly stumbling into a ditch in the process. "I… You… I'll see you back at the house." He resumed his trek back to the Villa at twice the speed he had been walking before.

She caught up with him and laced her arm through his in a friendly manner. "We'll go home together."

From above five figures watched them leave.

None of them were happy…


	14. Fourteen

** Fourteen**

Gordon stood outside the door to Virgil's bedroom. He ran his hand through his still damp hair and then hastily dried it on his trouser leg. He shifted the sketchpad from one hand to the other, before passing it back again. He raised a hand to knock on the door before dropping it back to his side.

He rotated his shoulders, steeled himself and knocked forcefully on the door. He heard a voice from within. "It's open."

Gordon hesitated a moment before sliding the door back.

Virgil was sitting on the window seat; knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. He was looking out over the Pacific Ocean.

"Um… Hi," Gordon said lamely.

"Hi," Virgil said quietly without diverting his gaze from the scene outside.

"I… um… I've brought you your sketchpad."

"Thanks."

"Tin-Tin found it."

"Oh."

"I would have brought it back earlier, but I thought I should have a shower first. Didn't want to leave your room smelling like a smoked chicken had been in here," Gordon gave an awkward chuckle.

Virgil didn't acknowledge the weak attempt at humour.

"Ah… C-Can I come in?" Gordon asked clumsily.

"It's your house."

"It's your room."

Virgil was silent.

"I… I'll leave the pad on your desk shall I?" Gordon did so. He watched as one of Virgil's hands clenched tighter around the material of his trouser leg.

"I… uh… I looked at the picture. It's good."

"Thanks."

Gordon decided that it was time to treat the situation has he would any swimming race. He dove in decisively. "Look. I'm sorry for what I said. I know it sounded terrible, but I didn't say it because I meant it. I said it because I had to tell someone, or I thought I'd go crazy. I thought that it was a good opportunity because no one would overhear me. Scott would shout at me and that would be the end of it…Obviously I was wrong..." He paused in case Virgil wanted to comment.

Virgil didn't.

Gordon steeled himself for another lap. "I didn't want to hurt you and I still don't. You've got enough problems; you don't need me adding to them. And, if it's any consolation, Scott looked as if he was ready to hit me so hard I wouldn't know what day it was…" Virgil flinched and Gordon suddenly realised why. He grimaced. "I'm sorry. That was a tactless thing to say… I can be tactless sometimes. Especially when I'm tired. I say things without thinking. Though sometimes when I do think, things aren't necessarily much better... as you heard today…"

Virgil was still regarding the scenery, but the grip on his trouser leg had lessened.

Gordon hoped he was on the home stretch. "I'm honoured that you trust me enough to let me help you and I don't want to betray that trust. No one's really ever really trusted me in that way before. Not in the caring brother role… Not even Alan… I've always been the second youngest brother - the joker - the one who gets into trouble and drags others in with me." Gordon prodded the carpet with his toe. "I guess I'm not used to looking after one of my brothers. That's always been Scott's job, or John's… or yours…" Gordon sighed. "I'm sorry, Virgil. Please forgive me… I want us to be friends as well as brothers." He held out his hand hopefully.

It took Virgil a moment to look round. He regarded Gordon's outstretched hand. "You really don't want me dead?"

"No!" Gordon shook his head frantically. "Definitely not. Not ever. Not for a thousand, million, trillion years. I want you to get better. I want things to be as they were. I want you to be as you were… That's all. Please forgive me…" He stopped gabbling, feeling that he was making even more of a fool of himself.

"You mean that?"

"Yes!" Gordon nodded emphatically. "Most definitely yes!"

He was more than a little relieved when Virgil gave a small smile and shook his hand.

* * *

That morning was Alan's last on Earth for a month. Going back to Thunderbird Five was never a totally appealing prospect, but this month, in Alan's opinion, the thought of leaving was even worse. He finished packing and tried to decide what else he needed to do before he left. He decided that he was packed and ready, so instead of heading back to his room he made his way to Tin-Tin's.

She was in her sewing room tacking together a new outfit. "Are you leaving already, Alan?" She stood to give him a goodbye hug. He gave her an embrace that melted into a warm kiss that left her surprised and tantalised.

When he released her she looked at him closely. "Alan? What was that for?"

"So you don't forget me."

"And why would I be likely to forget you?"

"Virgil."

"Virgil?"

Alan nodded.

She frowned at him in confusion.

"Has he done… or said… anything?" Alan asked hesitantly.

"Such as?"

"Has he… insinuated that he would… like to get to know you better?"

"Anything? He asked if he could draw me…"

"He what!"

"He said he was sick of drawing inanimate objects and wanted to try a real person." She giggled. "He became all shy. He said he'd like to start with someone pretty. It was rather sweet really."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I was busy. I had a lot of work to do for Brains."

"Good girl."

"It was the truth."

"Well make sure Brains keeps you busy until I get back."

"Oh, Alan. What are you on about? Virgil's a sweetheart, he wouldn't try anything."

"Before, he wouldn't. But I don't know about now. No one knows exactly what he's like… not even Virgil."

"Alan, you're being silly. He's lost his memory not his personality. There's no way Virgil would try anything unseemly. He just wanted a little drawing practice."

Alan grunted.

She caressed his cheek. "Look. I think you're overreacting, but I promise that I won't let him, or any other man 'try anything'. If he does I'll go straight to my father… or yours."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

He gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. "Thank you."

"But I don't know why you won't trust your own brother."

"Because, at the moment, I don't think that he believes that he is my brother."

She bit her lip.

"You think I'm being silly again."

"No, Alan," she said quietly. "This time I agree with you. I think he does doubt what we've told him."

"So you see why I'm worried about you?"

"Yes," she nodded. "But I can't believe that Virgil, whoever he thinks he is, would try anything. It would go against his nature."

* * *

Three Tracy men assembled in the lounge ready for departure to Thunderbird Five. Alan's bags had already been loaded via the equipment lift. Jeff smiled at Virgil. "You look excited."

"I am. Thunderbird Two was a buzz at the speed she went. I can't wait to see what it feels like in Thunderbird Three."

"Well just do whatever Scott or Alan tell you, okay?"

"Yes, Sir."

Scott sat on one end of the couch. "You've got to sit on here to board."

Obediently Virgil took his place at the other end.

It was Alan's turn to sit down. "Move over," he instructed Scott, his frown telling his brother not to disobey. Scott looked at him quizzically and reluctantly shifted so he was now seated in the middle of the couch next to Virgil.

"See you later, Gordon," Virgil said brightly.

"Later, Virgil," Gordon grinned. "Make sure our oldest and youngest brethren behave themselves."

"Have a good trip boys," Jeff said and pressed the button that sent them downwards deep into International Rescue's complex.

Virgil looked about him as the couch made its way along the conveyor system that ran along the track to Thunderbird Three, trying to take everything in… Suddenly the ceiling lifted away, revealing International Rescue's rocket ship. Virgil stared upwards in awe. "How big…?"

Scott waited for his youngest brother to answer, but Alan remained silent. "87 metres," he eventually said.

"Bigger than Thunderbird Two, then."

"That's right," Scott confirmed.

The couch came to a halt under Thunderbird Three. Virgil went to stand and was pulled back down into a sitting position by Scott. He looked at the other man in confusion; confusion that changed to surprise when the couch started rising up into the air. Virgil looked upwards again and had the feeling that he was going to be swallowed by the behemoth that was Thunderbird Three.

The couch had no sooner reached its destination than Alan was on his feet. "Prepare for launch," he said perfunctorily and stepped into the lift that took him to the flight deck. Scott and Virgil watched his scowl slide upwards.

"What's with him?" Virgil asked.

"I don't know," Scott replied. "You'd better sit in that seat over there. I'll help you strap in."

Virgil found himself gripping tightly at the restraints that held him firmly in his seat. He didn't know if he were more nervous or excited. A flight into space seemed so impossible, and yet here he was about to undertake this journey. He felt the jets beneath him build up power and then explode into life. He felt the force of gravity against his body and the mighty rocket was forced skywards.

He felt a sense of relief that they hadn't been blown to smithereens.

He was pleased when Scott told him to release his safety belt. Together they journeyed upwards in the lift. Virgil was that excited that he barely realised that Scott was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep a reasonable distance between the pair of them.

The doors slid open to reveal Thunderbird Three's flight deck. Alan was sitting at the controls. He hadn't lost his scowl.

Scott pointed at a monitor. "Go take a look outside."

Virgil was more than happy to accede to his suggestion. "How fast are we going, Alan?"

Alan studied his control panel intently.

"Alan," Scott nudged him. "Virgil asked you a question."

"Did he?" Alan replied uninterestedly.

Scott frowned at him. "He asked you how fast Thunderbird Three was travelling."

"Oh… Fast, really fast," Alan replied.

Scott gave Virgil an apologetic shrug.

"So… What does everything do?" Virgil asked Alan.

"Lots of complicated stuff. You wouldn't understand… Not now."

"Alan," Scott said in a quiet, but threatening voice.

Alan ignored him.

Virgil's earlier feelings of excitement had dissipated quickly. Someone or something had obviously upset Alan, and Virgil had an uneasy feeling that it was him, though he had no idea how or why. "Is something wrong, Alan?"

"Apart from you having amnesia?"

"Alan!" Scott said more forcefully.

"No, nothing's wrong. And it had better stay that way."

Scott was getting angry. "Alan! What's got…?"

"Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three."

"This is Thunderbird Three. Go ahead, John," Alan said quickly.

"Hiya, Alan I've got you on my trackers. You got any passengers this time?"

"Yep. Virgil's on board."

"I'll bet you're enjoying showing him around Thunderbird Three. I'm dying to show him Thunderbird Five." John was in a cheerful mood. It sounded out of place in the harsh atmosphere that was currently pervading the control room. "Did you bring lunch?"

"Grandma's packed a full picnic."

"Great! I'm getting sick of my cooking," John chattered on obliviously. "Can I have a word with Virgil?"

Alan motioned for Virgil to come round so that he could see John on the video screen. "Hi, John."

"Hi there, Virgil. Glad you're able to visit this time. Enjoying the flight?"

Enjoying wasn't an adjective Virgil would use at the moment. "Um. The launch was exciting."

John laughed. "I'll bet. I've done it often enough that it's all rather ho hum to me now. So… which do you prefer? Thunderbird Three or Thunderbird Two?"

"Thunderbird Two," Virgil replied without thinking. "I know Thunderbird Three's faster, but you get more of a sensation of speed in Thunderbird Two."

Alan's frown deepened.

"Glad to hear it," John noted. "I would have been worried if you'd preferred the red rocket. I would have thought that something was seriously wrong, instead of only very."

Scott found himself nodding in agreement.

Virgil actually laughed.

"I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your flight. Won't be long and I'll be able to show you what a REAL Thunderbird is like."

Alan snorted.

Virgil stood back and gave Thunderbird Three's pilot plenty of space to fly his rocket.

* * *

Docking was uneventful. When he was sure that all procedures had been followed and everything was locked together securely, Scott opened the access way between Thunderbird's Three and Five. "Go on, Virgil. We'll…"

John appeared in the doorframe. "Hi, guys!"

He received a flat chorus of "Hi, John," in return.

"Why don't you take Virgil on his tour," Scott suggested. "I'll help Alan transfer his gear over."

"Sounds good to me," John grinned. "Come on, Pal." Virgil eagerly followed him out of Thunderbird Three.

Scott waited until he was sure that they'd both entered Thunderbird Five. Then he turned back to Alan. "Right! What's your problem with Virgil?"

"I don't have a problem. It's Virgil who has the problem."

"You were ignoring him."

"Yeah, well. You'd know all about that, Scott."

"Alan…!"

"It's like Gordon said this morning. You've barely spent 10 minutes with him."

"Maybe… But I don't ignore him. And I'm certainly not rude to him."

"You don't go out of your way to be friendly either."

"This isn't about me. Something's got into you. What?"

Alan was in a stubborn frame of mind. "Unlike Gordon, I know when to keep my mouth shut."

Scott shook his head disapprovingly. "Maybe it's just as well you're going to be out of the way for a month. Give you a chance to cool that hot head of yours down."

"Yeah. And I'm sure there's some people who'd love to have me out of the way."

Scott looked at him. "Who?"

Alan face turned red. "Are we going to move the supplies? Or am I expected to starve for the next month."

"Alan. I want to know what's going on!"

"And I've got work to do. I think you said something about helping me…?"

"How was the flight?" John asked shrewdly.

"It was… interesting," Virgil replied.

"Something happened didn't it?"

"Like what?" Virgil feigned ignorance. It was a facial expression he'd had plenty of experience with over the last month.

"I know Alan and Scott. Alan had his 'spat the dummy' expression on, and Scott was too quick getting rid of us. I know you too. You were uncomfortable with the situation. So what happened?"

"I don't know. I've obviously done something that Alan didn't like. The problem is I don't know what." Virgil's brow creased in thought. "It can't be the amnesia causing it, can it? I haven't had any short-term memory loss up till now."

"I'd doubt it. Knowing Alan, he's probably realised that he's forgotten his shorts, and he's looking for someone else to blame. You're the easiest target."

"Why me?"

John shrugged. "He probably thinks you're less likely to argue. He's probably told himself that he was so excited about taking you for a ride in Thunderbird Three, that he forgot them."

Virgil seemed satisfied with the answer.

John wasn't. What he'd just said was a total load of hogwash and he knew it. He'd have a quiet word with Scott on the way home. In the meantime… "Let the tour commence!" he spread his arms in greeting. "This is the nerve centre of International Rescue."

"Wow!" Virgil goggled at all the equipment and lights and dials. "How do you keep track of what does what?"

"Practice," John told him. "It's helps that I did a lot of the design work and construction with Brains. It was quite a challenge. Working out how to intercept every radio signal on the planet and then filter out those that contain mindless drivel… Which is most of them."

"But not everyone speaks English. How do you cope with that?"

"The computer interprets most languages. I'm handy with a few. There's not too many people I can't hold a conversation with."

"You make it sound as though you like interacting with people and yet you're stuck up here for a month at a time," Virgil noted.

"Being able to and wanting to are two different things," John told him. "It's a useful skill to have, but I'm just as happy alone with a good book or a telescope." He led the way to the small library. "Most of the books in here are in digital form. If we had every issue we hold here housed in the traditional way, Thunderbird Five would be bigger than the moon! And not very easy to hide from Earth." He picked up a hardback book, and caressed it lovingly. "Mind you, there's nothing like the pleasure of turning paper pages for making the reading experience complete." He carefully placed the book back in its place. "How's your reading progressing?"

"Slowly," Virgil said sourly. "I can tell you the letters of the alphabet, but I'm not having a lot of luck sticking them together to form words. I do recognise our names though.

"Really?" John indicated a section of titles. "See if you recognise any of those." He indicated a wall of well-thumbed tomes.

Virgil looked at him curiously and then did as he was asked. He traced his finger along the spines, trying to piece together the letter combinations. John found himself wishing that he hadn't made the suggestion as he watched his previously fluent brother struggle with the words.

At last Virgil came upon something recognisable. "That one says John Tracy! So does this one. And this…" he looked back at John. "Is that you?"

"That's me," John said.

"Mind if I look?"

"Go ahead."

Virgil carefully removed one of John's books from its shelf. He opened it and found John's picture smiling back at him. "It really is you. What's it about?"

"Astronomy. That one's about the quasar I found."

"The Tracy… Q.u.a.s.a.r," Virgil read out.

"Quasar. That's it. I discovered it so they named it after me."

Virgil stared at him. "That's amazing."

John chuckled. "Not really. You can pay to name a star after yourself nowadays."

"But you discovered a quasar…"

"Well you get a good view from up here. No atmospheric disturbance. Here," John took the book from Virgil's hands, "I'll show you another thing I found." He turned to the appropriate page. "That's a star I discovered. I called it Lucille after our mother."

"That's a nice idea," Virgil approved.

"I'd like to think that she'd appreciate it." A faraway look came into John's eyes. "I look for it sometimes, with my telescope, and it gives me a feeling that she's nearby."

"You still miss her," Virgil noted.

"Yeah, I do," John admitted. "We all do. She was an important part of our lives."

Virgil felt a familiar sense of emptiness. Here was a vital part of his history, yet he had next to no knowledge about it.

As if he sensed Virgil's change in mood, John deliberately perked up again. "Come on. I haven't shown you everywhere yet." He led the way out of the library and showed Virgil the sleeping quarters. Next stop was the observatory. John checked a telescope. "I've got it set up on Lucille. Take a look."

Virgil squinted through the eyepiece at the small bead of light. He found the idea of someone focusing on a star for company sad. "Don't you get lonely up here?"

"Sometimes. Though you guys usually keep in contact with me at least once a day. It makes it bearable. I've been getting lots of calls from Gordon." John looked at Virgil. "How is he?"

"Tired," Virgil admitted, "and it's my fault."

"Not really," John told him.

"Well I'm certainly the cause…" Virgil bit his lip. "Has anyone told you about what happened this morning?"

"No. No one has… They've obviously decided to keep it quiet… But I know."

"You know? How?"

"Like I said, this place picks up almost every radio signal in the world. And the ones from home are the clearest. Which you guys have a tendency to forget. Honestly I could blackmail each and every one of you… Anyway, when I realised it was some kind of emergency I listened in. Then… when I realised what Gordon was saying afterwards…" John shrugged. "I felt like a rabbit in the headlights. I knew something private was happening and yet I had to carry on listening to find out what was going to happen. How did everyone react afterwards?"

"There was only Alan, Tin-Tin, Brains, your… 'Father' and me listening."

"I'll bet you weren't happy."

"I don't think anyone was…" Virgil didn't feel like elaborating.

John understood. "The thing is, being up here I've developed a pretty good ear for hearing the nuances in people's voices. I hear what they are saying better than I can read their faces. I was feeling sympathy for Gordon a long time before Scott did. And I could hear that Scott wasn't far short of doing something drastic to Gordon. I was horrified at what Gordon was thinking, but I could hear that he was too. How's things between you?"

"He apologised," Virgil admitted.

"And?"

"And… I forgave him. I've got amnesia; I'm not blind. I can see how I'm affecting him. I can see how I'm affecting everyone."

"Yeah… well… I guess it's not something you learn to deal with in a hurry," John said awkwardly.

"Tell me about it," Virgil agreed.

"How about between you and Scott?" John asked.

Virgil shrugged. "No different," he said cryptically.

John decided they both needed cheering up. "Come on," he said brightly. "Enough doom and gloom. Time for lunch!"

The four of them ate in relative silence. When they'd finished Scott started packing up. "Time we headed home. Have you shown Virgil everything, John?"

"Nearly."

"Okay," Scott smiled. "You finish off and Alan and I can clean up."

Alan's almost permanent scowl deepened.

"Let me show you our latest project." John led the way into another room and over to a computer station. "It's simulation software. Initially it was for training purposes, but I'm adding in various communication strategies so that we can use it for real rescues. For instance…" he tapped a few keys, "let's pretend that there's a volcano erupting somewhere… For want of a better place we'll make it Ruapehu in the North Island of New Zealand. It's erupted before and there's every chance it'll erupt again. There isn't a large population centre nearby, but it does have a couple of ski fields on its flanks and it has wiped out bridges in the past with disastrous results."

Virgil watched with interest.

"Okay," John continued on. "Here's Ruapehu." A picture came up on screen.

"Is that a photo?" Virgil asked.

"No. It's a computer graphic. Realistic isn't it." The mountain rotated 360 degrees. "We're able to tap into satellites and bring up real time information, which gets fed into the computer. The instant the lake in the crater starts to rise we'll know about it. This simulation will predict where the crater wall will break and where the resulting lahar will flow. Let's bring in Thunderbird One…" a few taps of the keys and the rocket plane came soaring into view. "Now, supposing Scott lands here, and pops out to go for a stroll…" a little figure jumped out of Thunderbird One and wandered off screen.

Virgil felt that uneasy feeling return.

"I'm up here thinking, 'That's a stupid place to land, Scott'. So I run the simulation and…"

Ruapehu's crater wall disintegrated. A wall of mud, water and debris raced down from the summit. Virgil watched in grim fascination as it neared Thunderbird One, knocked its landing legs out from under it, and washed it away.

"Scott would not be pleased," John said with a trace of satisfaction as the little representation of his brother came back on screen and jumped about angrily. "That was Gordon's contribution," he explained.

"But… it all looked real," Virgil was staring at the computer screen.

That's what makes it so helpful," John told him. "Of course in real life there's no way Scott would do anything as foolhardy as that, but it adds a bit of interest. We can use it for tsunami, earthquakes, forest fires… We're still learning what we can use it for really."

"Fascinating," Virgil couldn't take his eyes off the images on screen. His mind was filled with troubled thoughts and ideas.

John didn't notice. "We've called it the 'Virtual International Rescue Geophysical Imitation Laboratory', or 'Virgil 2' for short." At Virgil's subsequent expression he gave a wry grin. "You didn't think much of the name it the first time you heard it either. It was Scott's idea and he was so pleased that he'd come up with something abstractly creative that none of us had the heart to tell him it was rubbish. You did say to me later that we should call it 'Scott's Creativity's Over The Top' or 'Scott 2'..." John's grin broadened. "I liked that suggestion but we've kept the slightly more logical name... Any questions?"

Virgil shook his head.

"Okay… I'd better go get my stuff," John said. "Dad doesn't like us being away from home for too long. Could cause problems if there's a call out. Do you want to wait here?"

Virgil nodded. He wanted time alone to think. He watched John walk out of the room and then turned back to the computer. 'Virgil 2'? Then what… or who exactly was 'Virgil 1'…?

He'd moved away from the computer and was gazing out the window at the millions of stars when he heard footsteps. He turned expecting to see John…

It was Alan.

Virgil gave him an uncertain smile. "All ready for your stay?" he asked politely.

"Yep," Alan replied bluntly.

"I'm just admiring the view," Virgil said unnecessarily. "You don't realise how many stars there are while you're on Earth, do you?"

Alan glared at him.

"No," Virgil replied quietly on his behalf. "What's wrong, Alan?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. And it had better stay that way."

"I'll agree to that," Virgil gave what he hoped was a winning smile.

"John and Scott are waiting for you, through there," Alan indicated a door.

"Oh. Thanks. See you in a month," Virgil said lamely. "Thanks for bringing me with you this time." He began walking towards the door.

"One thing before you go, Virgil!"

John and Scott were cooling their heels in the main communications room.

"What's going on, Scott?" John asked.

Scott was frowning at the door he was expecting Virgil to walk through. "What?" he asked absently.

"Between Virgil and Alan?"

"Oh… I don't know. The kid wouldn't tell me. I'd hazard a guess that he thinks that Virgil's moving in on his territory."

"You mean Tin-Tin?"

"Yeah. I mean Tin-Tin."

"Is he right to be worried?"

"Worried? About Virgil and Tin-Tin? Nah," Scott said dismissively. "She spends a lot of time tutoring him with his reading, but that's all. If Alan helped out more he'd see that."

"Are you helping out more?"

Scott looked embarrassed. "No."

"Then maybe you're missing something that Alan's seen."

"Come on, John. Can you see it? Virgil and Tin-Tin?" Scott laughed.

"No. But I haven't been home for a month. Things could change in that time. Gordon could start wishing that Virgil had died."

Scott started.

"I'm letting you know that I know," John informed him.

"How did you find out? Did Virgil tell you?"

John laughed. "Are you forgetting where you are, Scott?" He indicated Thunderbird Five's control room. "I overheard."

"Oh," Scott grinned sheepishly. "Were you as surprised as I was?"

"Probably more so. As I said, I haven't been home for a month."

Virgil turned back to Alan and was surprised to see thinly disguised anger on the younger man's face. "Yes?"

"Keep away from Tin-Tin," Alan's voice was low and threatening.

"Why?" Virgil asked, bewildered by the tone of the order.

"She's somewhat gullible. And she trusts you. Don't abuse that trust."

"How? What do you mean, Alan?"

"Do you still want to draw her?"

"Well… yes I'd like to. She has nice features…"

"Don't you dare go near her," Alan snarled.

"What? Why?" By now Virgil was thoroughly confused.

"If I see a single line on a page that looks like her, if I hear that you've so much as touched a hair on her head, you'll wish it wasn't only your memory that you're missing!"

"Alan? Why would I want to touch her?"

"Gordon told me how you had your eye on her."

"Gordon did what?" Virgil was startled. He forgot about Alan's concerns over Tin-Tin. Now he had a more personal issue. "But I've never said I was attracted to her. Why would he say I was?"

"You'd better ask him. That's if he's not hiding from you again."

"Gordon was hiding from me?"

"Yes. He needed time away from you."

"He needed…"

"He's sick of you. He was fed up with having you tail after him all the time. He needed a break."

A soft "Oh" escaped Virgil's lips.

"He told me how you said she was pretty."

"Why did he do that?"

"He's my friend," this was said in such a way that it was implied that Virgil wasn't. "He was looking out for me. We've always looked out for each other."

"He'd rather spend time with you?"

"Probably. Right now he'd rather spend time in his bed, asleep. You're making him sick, Virgil. In more ways than one."

"But I only…"

"Virgil?" John was calling him from beyond the door.

Virgil looked round. "I'm here," he said with some relief.

John poked his head in through the door. "Good," he said with a smile that vanished when he saw their expressions. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Alan said. "Virgil was just saying goodbye."

"Uh, yeah," eager to avoid further confrontation, Virgil agreed. "See you, Alan."

"Yes," Alan agreed. "I'll be seeing you."

John heard the warning in his brother's voice. "Ah, Virgil? Why don't you go through to Thunderbird Three? I've got a couple of points I should run through with Alan before I leave."

"Okay…" Virgil was glad to escape.

John watched him leave. Then he rounded on his other brother. "What's going on, Alan?"

"Nothing. I'm minding my own business."

"Where Virgil's concerned, it's everyone's business until he gets his memory back. Were you threatening him?"

"Just warning him about some dangerous things he's got to watch out for."

John folded his arms. "Such as?"

"Such as… not making Dad mad by being late back."

"He'll understand this time. Don't fob me off, Alan. What were you saying to him?"

"To look after Gordon and let him get some sleep."

John shook his head. "Not good enough, Kiddo."

"Don't call me that!" Alan snapped. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"Then stop behaving like a spoilt brat! Don't you trust Tin-Tin?"

"Leave her out of this!" Alan bristled.

"You can't tell me she's not at the root of it all."

"It's not her fault! It's… It's his!" Alan indicated the door that Virgil had exited.

John grew visibly angry. "Do you think Virgil chose to get amnesia?"

"He's choosing to prey on Tin-Tin. She's too naive!"

"I think she's wise enough to look after herself. And I don't think Virgil would choose to 'prey' on anyone!"

"You don't know what he's like now, John!"

"From what I've seen and heard, he hasn't changed that much." John stared down his brother. "And let me give you a bit of free advice, Alan. If you want to remain in Tin-Tin's good books, you'll grow up enough to let her do what she wants without having to worry about how you're going to react. Think about it! You've got a month!"

Scott looked at his watch. "What's taking him so long?" he muttered irritably. "Father'll kill us if we're too late."

"John said he had a couple points he had to talk to Alan about," Virgil said quietly.

"Yes, and I think I know what they were," Scott agreed. "But it shouldn't take this long." He looked at his brother. Virgil was looking miserable. "Cheer up. It may never happen."

"It already has," Virgil said. "It happened a month ago." He sighed. "Would you mind if I travelled alone? I've got a bit of a headache."

"Do you want something for it?" Scott asked in concern.

Virgil shook his head. "No, thanks."

"Take the elevator down to the lounge," Scott suggested. "You won't be disturbed there."

"Thank you." Virgil took him up on his suggestion.

John entered Thunderbird Three. "Where's Virgil?"

"In the lounge. He said he had a headache."

"I'll bet. And the headache's name is Alan Tracy. He wouldn't admit it, but I think he's threatened Virgil over Tin-Tin."

"He what!" Scott started to head back into Thunderbird Five. "I'll kill him!"

"Whoa!" John grabbed him by the arm. "If you do that, Dad will be angry because we'd be late and we'd have to leave Thunderbird Five unattended. Not to mention the fact that I'll probably be the one who'll have to clean up the mess." He released his grip. "I've already told him to grow up. We'll give him a month to cool down. If he hasn't by then… then you can kill him. Only leave a piece for me."

Scott gave him a grim smile. "You're on…!"


	15. Fifteen

** Fifteen**

It was a quiet trio who rose back up into the lounge at Tracy Island. Both Scott and John were keenly aware that Virgil was still feeling despondent after his 'discussion' with Alan.

In contrast their father was in high spirits. "Welcome home, John."

"Thanks, Dad."

"How was the trip, Virgil?" Jeff asked.

"Interesting," Virgil replied morosely and lapsed into silence.

"Ah, the wanderers return," Gordon's jovial greeting jarred sharply with the general mood as he entered the lounge, clad in swimming costume and towel. "So how's space travel suit you, Virgil?"

"Fine," Virgil replied as he stared at the carpet.

As if blaming him, Gordon glared at Scott when he heard his brother's emotionless tone. In return Scott gave him a look that said 'don't blame me.'

Gordon decided Virgil needed cheering up. "Meet any aliens?"

"No."

"See any UFOs?"

"No."

"Sounds a bit dull to me." Gordon tried a different tack. "I'm going for a swim. Would you like to join me?"

Virgil shook his head. "I think I'll go work on the Traceset." For the first time he looked at Gordon, and Gordon saw some unknown emotion cross his brother's face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Tired," Virgil admitted as he stood. "I'll see you all later." He'd started walking out of the room when Tin-Tin walked in.

"Virgil!" She exclaimed happily. "You're back. Did you enjoy yourself?"

He nodded, unable to look at her. "'Scuse me," he said, and hurried through the door.

She stared after him in consternation and then looked curiously at the rest of the Tracy clan.

"All right," Jeff folded his arms and leant back on his desk. "What happened?" He scowled at his two eldest sons.

John answered in one simple word. "Alan."

"Alan?" Tin-Tin repeated. "What did he do?"

John and Scott looked at each other. They didn't feel right discussing this in front of her.

"Ah, Tin-Tin," Scott said cautiously. "This is kind of a family thing… I'm sorry, would you mind if we talked about it in private?"

Now she stared at him. She'd practically grown up with the Tracy boys and regarded herself as part of the family. She'd never been dismissed like this before. She wasn't sure how to take it…

"Sorry, Tin-Tin," John added when he saw her hesitate.

"Oh… Okay." She glanced at Jeff Tracy and saw him frowning at his two sons. She retired with dignity from the room.

"So what did Alan do?" Gordon asked when he was sure she was out of earshot.

"We don't know exactly," Scott explained.

"But we think he told Virgil to keep away from Tin-Tin," John added.

"He did what!" His father straightened up imposingly and glowered at the portrait of his youngest. "Why would he do that?"

"Jealousy?" Scott suggested.

"Why would he think that Virgil's interested in her?" Jeff asked.

John shrugged. "We don't know. Neither of them are willing to say anything about what happened."

"Um… I may have had something to do with it," Gordon said hesitantly. He flushed as three pair of eyes turned on him.

"What did you tell him, Gordon," Jeff growled.

"That Virgil made some comment about her being pretty. But I told him that he said that ages ago! About the day after his accident!" Gordon protested. "I told Alan that I told Virgil that Tin-Tin wasn't available to the rest of us! I told him that I told Virgil that we regard her as a sister! I told him that Virgil hasn't said anything in weeks! I told him…"

"Okay, Gordon. We got the picture," Scott said.

Gordon lapsed into a miserable silence.

"So now what do we do?" John asked.

"I say we force Alan to apologise," Scott rumbled.

"How?" John asked him. "He won't be home for another month, and any orders won't carry the same weight over the video link. They never do. And I'll tell you something for free," he added warningly. "I've only just got home. I'm not heading back up there in a hurry just so that lover boy can apologise."

They all looked at him in bewilderment.

"Aren't I allowed to enjoy being with my family once in a while?" he asked, sounding peevish.

"Sorry, John," Jeff said. "You're right, of course."

"He wouldn't do it over the video anyway," Scott said. "It's easier to refuse something like that when you're 36,000 kilometres away from everyone else and a month away from retribution."

"And harder to accept that an apology's genuine," Gordon added.

"Don't worry about Alan," Jeff said. "I'll have a word with him later. The problem is Virgil."

"Are you sure that's what Virgil's problem is?" Gordon asked.

"Alan was sniping at him all the way to Thunderbird Five," Scott told him.

"And we left them alone for five minutes," John added. "When I found them again, Virgil was looking upset and Alan seemed to be pretty uptight."

Jeff sighed. "As if we don't have enough problems, without Alan adding to them. Sometimes I wonder if he's mature enough to be part of International Rescue."

"He is when we're on a mission," Scott reassured him. "It's just when he's at home he has a relapse."

"Do you want me to have a word with Virgil?" John offered. "I'd like to spend a bit of time with him anyway. Maybe I can get him to tell me exactly what Alan said, and then we can decide what needs to be done."

"Okay, John. We'll leave it in your hands," Jeff agreed. "In the meantime… What do we tell Tin-Tin?"

"She'll be devastated if she thinks Alan doesn't trust her," Scott noted.

John stood and stretched. "I'll leave you guys to sort it out. I'll go unload my gear and then have that chat with Virg."

"Virgil," Scott reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. Must remember that." John sauntered out of the room. He was halfway down the hallway when he ran into an embrace. "Hiya, Grandma."

"Welcome home, Darling. It's wonderful to see you." She looked up into his twinkling blue eyes and tweaked his cheek. "You're looking pale."

John laughed. "Grandma! You say that to me every time I come home. Don't worry, I'm going to get my stuff, go have a chat with Virgil and then go for my walk along the beach in the sun. As usual!"

She hugged him again. "Are you losing weight, John Tracy? I can feel some ribs!"

"Yep. My cooking's not a patch on yours. I'm dying to get stuck into some of your wonderful food so I can fatten up again. What's for dinner?"

She chuckled in delight. "It's a surprise."

"Apple pie?"

"You'll have to wait and see. Have you discovered anything new? Any new stars?"

"No. Brains' latest project has kept me busy. And I've been getting more calls than usual from everyone. They've been keeping me up with the play over Virgil."

At once she lost her smile. "There's been no change, John."

This time he gave her a reassuring hug. "So I hear. How are you coping?"

"Me? I just plod along, pretending nothing's wrong. We're all doing that."

John looked over her head. Tin-Tin was hovering uncertainly outside Virgil's room. "Um, excuse me, I'd better go get my things. Make sure that pie's good and hot, Grandma."

"I never said you were getting pie!" She wandered into the kitchen; her mind already beginning preparations for one of her famous apple pies.

Tin-Tin was about to knock on Virgil's door.

"Tin-Tin!" John called.

"John!" she gave him an uncertain smile. "I was… going to ask if Virgil wanted to get in any reading practise before dinner."

"I wouldn't," John suggested, "not now. I think the flight's upset him a bit. We'll give him a rest today shall we?"

She nodded reluctantly.

"And now that I'm back, I'll help with his tutoring," John offered. "I'd like that. It'll give you a break too. I've heard that you've been helping him."

She nodded again.

"Thanks for looking out for him, Tin-Tin," John said sincerely. "I appreciate it. I know we all do… Virgil included."

"I've enjoyed helping him. He's been so defenceless…" She sighed. "I'll see you at dinner, John. I've got some sewing to do."

"Okay, Honey. See you later."

John quickly unloaded his bags from the goods lift and stowed them in his room without bothering to unpack. Then he went back down to Virgil's bedroom.

He knocked on the door. There was no answer. He slid the door open. "Virgil?"

A familiar voice answered him. "In here."

John went into the studio. The floor was strewn with bits of Traceset, some assembled, others lying singly. Virgil was kneeling on the floor tinkering with the toy.

"Hi there," John greeted him. "What are you doing?"

"Keeping out of everyone's way," Virgil said morosely.

"Mind if I join you?"

"No, I don't mind. I'll enjoy your company until you become like everyone else and hate me."

"Hate you?"

Virgil nodded.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No," Virgil said sadly. "Your brothers would rather I went away and left them alone."

John ignored the 'your brothers' remark. "Why do you say that? We've always been close to our brothers."

"They don't like me… None of them."

"Virgil," John said helplessly. "That's ridiculous."

"They've probably sent you to look after me because no one else wants to."

"No. I come because I've missed you and I've been worried about you. A month is a long time to be away from someone you care about, especially when they're ill."

"Care?" Virgil repeated. "There's not too many people who would say that they care about me."

"There's a whole family of people who care about you," John informed him. "Now cheer up before I get depressed as well."

"See, I'm already upsetting you."

John cursed himself but retained his smile. "No you're not. Now, what are you making?"

"What I always make," Virgil sighed. "It's an aircraft…"

"What are the hooks on top for?"

"I wish I knew," Virgil said in frustration. "I keep putting them there, only now they retract. I've also starting giving it retractable wings…"

"Just like Thunderbird One," John noted.

"What?" Virgil looked at him in bewilderment.

"Just like Thunderbird One," John repeated.

Virgil stared at him blankly.

"Thunderbird One's wings open out to stabilise her in low speed flight," John explained. "Didn't Scott show you?"

"No. I haven't seen Thunderbird One for ages… and Scott hasn't shown me anything for nearly as long."

"He hasn't…" John appeared stunned. Then he shook his head in exasperation. "Virgil, our big brother is a moron. I sometimes think there's more space between his ears than there is between Ursa Major and Ursa Minor…"

"The Big Bear and Little Bear constellations," Virgil said quietly.

"Yes," John agreed. "How'd you remember that?"

"Every now and then something totally useless comes back to me."

"Well it wouldn't be useless if you were lost… and in the Northern Hemisphere." John picked up the plane. He pushed his finger against an exposed gear and the wings extended, exactly as those on Thunderbird One did. "It's uncanny…" He looked back at his brother. "You're still in there, Virgil Tracy. Quit hiding and come out."

"I wish I could." Virgil rubbed at his face as if he were trying to wipe away the barrier that he was trapped behind. Then he looked in the box the Traceset came in. "Here," he handed over the cloth bag. "I think these were yours."

John took the bag and tipped its contents onto the palm of his hand. "The lenses! The number of times I tried to make a working telescope out of this. I never succeeded. The light kept getting into the barrel. It was fun trying though."

Virgil gave a small smile.

John looked at his watch. "Look. I always go for a walk before dinner on my first day back. It gives me a chance to get some real vitamin D and fresh air, stretch my legs, and makes Grandma happy because I'm always 'too pale' when I come home from Thunderbird Five." He stood. "Would you like to come with me?"

Virgil looked at him. "Thanks for the offer, but I'd better not."

"Why not? I'd like you to come."

Virgil shook his head. "I don't want to upset your routine."

"You wouldn't be upsetting it."

"Yes I would. I'd upset your routine, I'd upset you, and you'd be like everyone else and wish I wasn't here."

"Virgil…" John sighed. "There's a lot of things I like about coming home. I love being out there close to the stars, but I love having my feet on the good solid Earth too. The longer I'm away from home, the more I appreciate it." He wandered over to the window and looked out. "I love seeing the clouds from below and not above. I love seeing the sky as blue and not black. I love hearing and smelling the ocean and not only seeing it as this blue green shape in the distance. I love walking along the beach. I love spending time with my family." He turned back into the room and looked at Virgil. "And I'd love for you to join me on my walk this time."

Virgil shook his head. "No. You'd only end up hating me like everyone else does."

"No I wouldn't. I've heard about the past month from everyone else. I want to hear it from your point of view. I'd value your company."

"Thanks, John. But I'd rather stay here. Out of everyone's way."

John could see that there was no point in pushing the matter. "What's the cot in the other room for?" he asked, even though he already knew.

"Gordon's been sleeping in it. We hoped that with him there I wouldn't have my nightmares. It hasn't worked though." Virgil twisted his hands together in frustration. "At night I dream nightmares and during the day I live them."

"I wish I could help," John said sincerely. "Tell you what!" he crouched down to Virgil's level. "What say tonight we give Gordon a break and I'll crash there. We can have our talk then! What do you think?"

For a moment he thought Virgil was going to refuse again. Then his brother smiled. "Would you mind?"

"No. It could be fun. Kind of like a sleep over. We'll raid the fridge for a midnight snack!"

Virgil managed a chuckle. "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure. I'll go tell Gordon now," John stood again. "Are you sure you don't want a walk?"

"No thanks. I'll stay here."

"Okay. Catch you at dinner."

"No… I'm not hungry."

"You're not… But you were always starving after trips to Thunderbird Five!" John said in amazement. "Surely you're hungry now?"

Virgil shook his head. "No… Give them my apologies will you?"

"Virgil… Are you genuinely not hungry, or is this because you don't want to see the family?"

"I'm not hungry," Virgil told the Traceset.

John lingered for a moment, unsure what to do next. "Okay. I see you later. I'll bring my stuff in after dinner. Okay?"

"Okay."

John left the room and strode through the lounge and down to the courtyard by the pool. His family was relaxing there.

"Well I hope you're all pleased with yourselves!" John's opening remark was designed to get everyone's attention. "Gordon was right this morning when he said it was going to be a shock to me when I got home. But the shock's not how you're all not coping, it's how you've made a complete and utter hash of the way you've treated Virgil!"

"What!" Gordon sat up on his lounger. "How'd you know… Did someone tell you?" he glared at Scott angrily.

"He didn't hear it from me!" Scott retorted.

"Alan!" Gordon snorted.

"No, not Alan. He's not getting the blame this time. Why do you guys forget that I spend half my time in the biggest electronic bugging device in the world?" John asked. "Just once I'd like to not hear what my birthday or Christmas present is going to be before I get it. It takes all the fun out of the occasion."

"You were listening?" Gordon asked him.

"Of course I was listening. When I hear there's trouble at home, I listen. It's my job, and it's the only way I can keep in the loop back here sometimes."

"Never mind all that," Jeff said. "What do you mean by 'a complete and utter hash', John?"

"The poor guy's up there, closeted away in his room, absolutely miserable because he thinks none of you like him."

"Rubbish!" Gordon said.

"You might think so, but Virgil doesn't."

"You're exaggerating," Scott told him. "He might think that Alan doesn't like him, but he wouldn't think that about Gordon, and as for me…" he tailed off as he became aware where his speech was leading him.

"If you call the phrase 'I'll enjoy your company until you become like everyone else and hate me' an exaggeration, Scott, then fine. Our brother is convinced that none of you like him. And I want to know what you did to make him think that way."

"We haven't done anything!" Scott protested.

"I'm aware of that, Scott. That's been your problem. Now what's yours, Gordon?"

"Mine? I wasn't aware that I had a problem! I apologised! He accepted my apology! We were fine before he went to Thunderbird Five…" Gordon frowned as he thought back to the morning. "Weren't we?"

"I thought so," Scott consoled him. "He seemed happy enough."

"And what have you done, Dad?"

"Me?" Jeff Tracy looked stunned.

"You! He said, 'they don't like me, none of them', and I got the distinct feeling that he was meaning the whole family. Not just the three guys."

"I don't know…" Jeff started to say. Then he stopped. "Yes I do."

John waited for him to elaborate. "Well?"

Jeff wasn't about to satisfy his curiosity. He frowned at his newspaper.

John became angry. "That'll solve the problem!" he snapped. "Just ignore it and it'll go away. Don't you think Virgil would like the problem to go away? He's got to live with it 24 hours a day, seven days a week!"

"We're aware of that, John," Jeff said disapprovingly.

"You know what else he thinks? He thinks that you'd rather that he 'went away and left them alone'."

"Did you take a recorder into this discussion?" Gordon asked facetiously. "You seem to have the whole thing down pat."

"I didn't need a recorder, I've got a good memory. I was so shocked about how he thinks you think, that the whole thing has been burned into my mind. You realise that he doesn't want any dinner? He said he's not hungry, but the real reason is that he's avoiding you all!" John folded his arms. "He sends his apologies. Like you deserve it!"

His family looked at each other sheepishly.

"I'll take him something when I go to bed," Gordon said quietly.

"Don't bother. I told him that I'd be pleased to bunk down on the cot tonight. He seemed rather relieved."

Gordon looked hurt.

John looked at his watch. "Virgil was worried that he'd upset my routines, and that I'd hate him for it. Well I'm not going let that happen. I'm going for my walk. One of you is going to have to go up and talk to him. I'll let you decide who. I'll see you at dinner… That's if I don't decide to join Virgil in exile!"

They watched him depart, his back ramrod straight in anger.

"I think we've just been told off," Scott said quietly.

"The sad thing is, he's right," Jeff noted. "We have made a 'hash' of it. The question is; how do we remedy the situation?"

"Well, I don't even know what I'm supposed to have done wrong," Gordon said. "Apart from what I said yesterday, and I've apologised for that. I don't know what else I could do." He looked at Scott. So did his father.

"You think I should go and talk to him, don't you," Scott said. "But what if something happens again?"

"If something happens we'll deal with it, just as we have every other time," Jeff told him. "Go on, Son. If you can convince him that you want to be friends, the rest of us have a chance."

"You make me sound like a mass murderer," Scott said as he heaved himself off his deckchair.

"No, you sound like someone who cares enough about his brother that you're willing for forgo your own happiness," his father told him.

Scott stared at him for a moment, before he picked up his glass and headed up the stairs. After a detour to the kitchen he found himself outside Virgil's bedroom.

While alone on Thunderbird Five John saw little reason in following accepted conventions and closing the doors to private quarters. It was a habit he had a tendency to retain when he returned to Earth, until his family's complaints would eventually remind him that other people didn't think that way. This was the reason why Virgil's door was wide open.

Scott shook his head disapprovingly and walked into the bedroom. On the table lay the sketchpad and pencils. Scott saw that the last drawing was from the viewpoint of the lookout. He picked up the pad and looked at earlier drawings. Most of them displayed differing views of that same vista. One of Tin-Tin had been ripped from the pad and lay crumpled in the rubbish.

Scott dropped the pad back onto the table and walked silently through to the studio.

Virgil was no longer tinkering with the Traceset. Instead he was seated at his keyboard, his back to the studio door. He was concentrating on the piece he was playing and didn't see Scott standing there.

Scott listened as the music flowed from his brother's fingertips. While not up to his old standard, Scott had to admit that Virgil had a talent that transcended anything that he'd been taught. He was making up the piece as he went along and Scott was spellbound by the beauty, and incredible sadness, in the sounds that flowed forth.

He listened quietly.

Every now and then he caught a refrain that was clearly a part of another composition. He didn't know what music Virgil had heard since he'd got amnesia, but he knew his brother couldn't have heard all of those that were emerging out of this piece.

Somewhere, buried deep, the memories still remained.

Scott cast his mind back to before Virgil become an amnesiac. He would play sad pieces like this if the rescue hadn't gone well… if people had died. It was an outlet, a way of expressing his emotions. If the rescue had been close, stressful, but ultimately successful, his music would be bright and vibrant… an expression of the joy and relief that he felt. The music he was playing now was the type of music that Virgil should have been playing after his last rescue. They'd saved many, but lost a few. Virgil would have felt their loss deeply.

They all should have.

For some reason an image of a little girl sprang to Scott's mind. A little girl cradled in her distraught mother's arms. A little girl as limp and lifeless as a rag doll. A little girl called Maria. Scott's own tragedy had overshadowed hers. He hadn't even thought about her again… until today.

As if awakening from a dream he suddenly realised that he was back in the gym. His body had automatically taken him there as his mind had dwelt on other, darker issues.

Scott was suddenly angry with himself. He WAS running away. He'd told Gordon yesterday that he never did and never would do that, and yet here he was running away from Virgil. Virgil would never have deserted him, but Scott was doing just that to Virgil.

He was too scared to face his brother.

Faced with this inescapable fact Scott was filled with self-loathing. He turned on his heel and marched back to Virgil's room, through the open door and into the studio.

The music had been silenced… the room empty. The sketchpad and pencils had gone.

Scott stood alone for a moment trying to decide what he should do next. He knew he should talk to Virgil. He knew he HAD to talk to Virgil.

But how could he if he didn't know where his brother was?

Something deep down inside him gnawed at him, and told him that Virgil would be easy enough to find, but Scott told himself that he couldn't do anything without knowing his exact whereabouts.

Scott went back to the gym…


	16. Sixteen

**Sixteen**

4.45am. Early for most people. For Scott it was time to get up and starting planning the day's activities. His morning ritual always began with a trip down to the kitchen for a mug of hot coffee. He'd no sooner finished pouring it out when he heard a sound behind him. He turned and found a dishevelled looking Gordon standing there. "What are you doing up?"

"Is that coffee?" Gordon asked blearily. "Gimmee a cup."

"You look like you should be in bed asleep, not trying to wake up," Scott noted as he handed out his own mug before proceeding to fill another.

"Sleep? What's that?"

"Why? What happened?" Scott asked in concern as he headed over to his seat at the dining table.

Gordon slurped noisily at his coffee before following his brother's lead, and sat down opposite. "Just the same as every other night. Except that this time it was John who woke me. Not that I was asleep." He sipped his coffee again.

"Couldn't John handle it?" Scott asked.

"He tried. He told me they had quite an amiable evening…"

"I know. I heard them laughing."

"But when the nightmare kicked in, John was stuck. Nothing he tried worked. When Virgil started trying to fend him off, like he did with Dad that first night, that's when he got me."

"And you spent the rest of the night in Virgil's room?" Scott guessed.

"Yep. Poor John felt terrible. He felt as if he were deserting Virgil. But there was no point in the two of us having a sleepless night. I told him to go back to his room and I slept in the cot… Well I tried to… Every night it's the same. I can't sleep because I'm expecting him to wake me. And then when he wakes up it takes me at least an hour to calm him down enough so I'm able to go back to bed! And then I can't get back to sleep." He sighed. "I'm telling ya, Scott. This is starting to get to me. I want to help him, but it's getting to the stage where I'm that tired I'm not able to function properly. If International Rescue is called out today, I'll be useless. You may as well stick a wetsuit on Grandma and send her in my place!"

"Go back to bed, Gordon," Scott suggested.

"Is that what I'm meant to do? Sleep during the day so I can baby-sit Virgil at night!" Gordon grimaced. "I didn't mean it like that. I told you I'm tired."

Scott looked at him sympathetically.

Gordon placed his cup down on the table. "Enough about me and my problems. So… what's the programme for today?"

Scott looked at his watch. "First thing I'll do is hit the gym…"

"Second thing, hit the gym. Third thing, hit the gym. C'mon, Scott. You can have a break from that place for one day. You're getting more muscles than the Incredible Hulk."

Scott grinned at him over his coffee. "If I turn green overnight I'll know who to blame, and I'll be after you, Gordo'."

Gordon gazing into mid air reflectively. "It'd be easy enough to do; after all I've got the sleeping habits of a vampire…"

"And if I woke and caught you?"

"You'd never be able to catch me, not with that muscle bulk you're carrying around… Relax, Scott. Give him a chance to get to know you."

Scott grunted into his coffee.

"Can I tell you something?"

"You know what happened last time you said that, Gordon."

Gordon waved his concerns away. "They're all in bed, asleep, the lucky things. No one's listening."

"You should be in bed too. Go get some sleep and if you still want to tell me when you wake up I'll listen."

"I can't sleep. I keep thinking about yesterday." Gordon rubbed his eyes.

"Sorry about that," Scott apologised. "I should've been more careful with the radio."

"It wasn't your fault. It was a prime example of what I was talking about, how Virgil's amnesia is affecting all of us."

"Yeah," Scott agreed.

Gordon managed a wry grin. "However, I do wish you'd found a less public way of proving my point. Your one mistake of the year and it has to involve me and a radio set!"

"Do you really think that's my only mistake this year?" Scott asked quietly.

"It's the only one you'll admit to."

Scott face was creased in thought. "I don't know… Maybe you're right, Gordon. Maybe if I'd helped more you wouldn't have got to the stage where you felt you needed to think those things. Maybe Virgil wouldn't be thinking that none of us like him."

"Does that mean you'll help more now?" Gordon asked eagerly.

"I don't know…" Scott repeated as he traced a pattern in the tablecloth. "Do you think he'll let me?"

"You won't know unless you try. You've got a better chance of getting somewhere with Virgil than anyone else has. You know what makes him tick. You know what buttons to push. You KNOW him."

"You make him sound like Braman."

"I like it," Gordon grinned. "What Brains is to Braman, you are to Virgil."

Scott stared at Gordon as he tried to reconcile this analogy. "What am I? Doctor Frankenstein? Virgil is not Braman."

"They're not dissimilar."

"You are tired if you think that," Scott told him. "There's no comparison!"

"They've both saved your life!" Gordon reminded him.

"Granted. And now Braman's been superseded. Brains has moved on to bigger and better things and Braman is locked away in a back room of the complex somewhere."

"Forget Braman," Gordon advised. "Now are you going to help Virgil?"

"Where would I start? He barely knows me."

"And we both know whose fault that is."

"Okay," Scott held up his hand resignedly. "I'll try. That's if he's forgiven me too."

"If he can forgive me, he can forgive you. You were only listening."

"I guess."

"It's not Virgil I've got to worry about," Gordon admitted. "Tin-Tin's really mad with me this time. She asked me what Alan had done. I couldn't tell her of course, and that on top of my indiscriminate thought processes of yesterday means she's not talking to me at the moment."

Scott chuckled. "Of course she's not talking to you, she's asleep. She'll wake up in a couple of hours time and have forgotten all about it."

"I'm not sure, Scott. She's seriously mad. As in Dad and Grandma both furious at the same time, mad. She was angry after the fire, and now… She gave me a look yesterday that I can only interpret as; 'It's not Virgil you should be wishing were dead'. She's madder than when I threw all her clothes into the swimming pool."

"Did you blame her for being angry with you then? Her things were ruined!"

"That wasn't my fault! I'd put them all into containers to keep them dry. If International Rescue hadn't been called out and you hadn't launched Thunderbird One…"

"Don't blame me, Gordon. I didn't know about your game. Anyway, you made it up to her by taking her shopping."

"Boy, was that a fun day," Gordon said dryly. "Have you ever been shopping with a girl? They can't just see something and take it. They have to try it on, complain about the fit, or the colour, or how it makes them look too fat, or too skinny…"

"You didn't have to go with her."

"It was my money she was spending and I wanted to keep some control over it. And remember, part of the deal was that I had to act as her friendly packhorse. I asked her 'Why didn't you buy these things off the 'net and have them delivered? It'd be much easier'."

"What did she say to that?" Scott asked.

"Nothing. Just gave me a look that said 'You men have no idea'. I'll tell ya, Scott. That girl can pack more meaning into a single look than Brains can into his entire computer database."

Scott chuckled.

"Did Dad have a talk with you about what happened in the Round House?" Gordon asked, yawning as he changed the subject.

Scott grimaced. "If you can call it a talk. He tore that many strips off me that I'm lucky I've got any skin left."

"You were lucky. I got the quiet treatment," Gordon informed him.

"Ouch," Scott visibly cringed.

"Yeah. It wasn't pleasant," Gordon's manner was more subdued.

"Amazing isn't it," Scott said reflectively. "Here we both are, both old enough to have children of our own, and yet that man can reduce us both to jelly."

"Tell me about it. I'm still quivering." Gordon had some more coffee.

"Stop drinking that and go to bed, Gordon. I'll make sure you're not disturbed. We can talk later."

"I'm thinking of quitting," Gordon announced suddenly.

Scott spluttered into his coffee. "What?"

"I'm thinking of quitting," Gordon repeated.

Gordon clearly wanted to talk rather than sleep, and now Scott was alarmed enough to let him. "Quitting? Quitting what?"

"Tracy Island… International Rescue … I'm tired, Scott."

"I know that, but quitting? That's a bit drastic isn't it?"

"I've already had one major health scare in my life. I don't want another. I'm going to burn out if I don't get away. I need to get away from Virgil."

"What would you do?"

"I could become a WASP again."

"Would they let you? After what you did to that Commander…"

"He deserved it! The stuck up, officious, moron. And besides my Commander thought it was funny."

"I'll bet," Scott said dryly.

"He did!" Gordon protested. "He was trying not to laugh as he was telling me off. He said he was sorry that I was leaving."

"Do you really want to become a WASP again?" Scott asked.

"Dunno," Gordon shrugged. "Would you ever consider joining the Air Force again?"

"Me? I've never thought about it... The camaraderie was great. So were the constant challenges… and being able to fly so many different types of planes…"

"And the girls."

"Oh, yes," Scott laughed, "that was definitely one advantage the Air Force had over International Rescue." He stopped in thought, a smile playing about his lips; then became serious again. "But, getting back to the 'important' things, no plane the Air Force has can compare with the speed and manoeuvrability… or sheer fun… of Thunderbird One. Even Thunderbird Two's more enjoyable to fly than Air Force jets. There's also the fact that further up the ranks I'd go the less flying I'd get to do."

"You'd get more command," Gordon noted.

"Yeah. But in International Rescue I get to fly an amazing plane, and I can boss you guys around as much as I like. And there's another thing that never sat quite right with me about the Air Force. For all it's good points, and the skills I learnt, and friends I made, I could never forget that we were being trained to kill… and that never sat well with me. I tried to ignore it, but it was always there, the knowledge that someday I might actually have to take a life."

"Oh," Gordon said quietly.

"You can't tell me that you were happy with that aspect of your training either."

"No," Gordon said quietly. "But I'm sick of this."

"You're tired that's all," Scott reminded him.

"That's me. I'm sick and tired. I'm sick of being tired all the time. I'm sick and tired of doing the supportive brother act. I'm sick and tired of having Virgil follow me about like a shadow. Do you know what I'd really like to do sometimes?"

"What?"

"Tell him to get lost. To leave me alone! To stop bugging me! To go annoy someone else!"

Scott looked at his brother.

"I'd love to utilise his amnesia and play a practical joke on him. I've even got a beauty worked out…"

"Gordon…" Scott said warningly.

"Or I could take him to the far side of the island and leave him there. By the time he'd found his way back I could have spent a relaxing afternoon doing what I want to do."

"Gordon…" The tone was threatening.

"I know…" Gordon was almost whining. "I can't do that. It 'wouldn't be fair'. But is it fair what we have to go through?"

"Hang in there…"

"Hang in there? Is that the best advice anyone has for me? You realise he's useless to the organisation too."

"He'll learn. Give him time."

"How much time have we got? With only four operatives we haven't got the numbers to operate effectively. He's a liability and he's making me a liability." Gordon was starting to get really uptight.

"Gordon…"

"How much longer do we have to wait before Dad decides to do something about him?"

"It won't be much longer." Scott tried to be reassuring.

"When? You realise we're going to have to start thinking about getting outside help. We should get someone else, someone who can do what we want!"

"Gordon, you know why we can't."

"Because we'd break our cover. But, Scott, we're getting nowhere with him. Sooner or later we're going to have to make the decision to do something. Something drastic. And in the meantime I've got to pretend that I don't mind being woken at all hours of the night. We've all got to continue pretending to play happy families."

"It's for the best."

"We're all living a lie," Gordon said bitterly. "You can't tell me that we're not. I hate this…"

"Gordon…" Scott began again and then stopped abruptly when he saw his brother's face slacken and turn ashen. He turned…

Something moved in the shadows. Virgil was standing there, fully clothed. "A lie?" he asked. "Pretending?"

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," Virgil took a step backwards. "He…" Virgil indicated Gordon, "just said you're living a lie. What lie? I want to know the truth! Who are you?"

"We're your brothers, Virgil," Scott insisted. "Everything we've told you is true…"

"No! I don't believe you. Either of you!"

"Virgil," Gordon exclaimed. "I haven't lied to you once!"

"You haven't lied to me? I don't believe that. If you can lie about me, you wouldn't think anything of lying to me."

"I lied ABOUT you? When?"

"Yesterday!"

"What?" Gordon frowned. Stress and exhaustion were taking their toll. He was beginning to see double. He shook his head trying to clear his vision and rubbed his eyes. "I don't understand."

"No? Well I do now. I see now that I'm just a pawn in your game. I don't know what you want with me, but I do know that I don't want to be part of it. I don't want to stay here. I want to leave! I want to leave NOW!" Virgil's voice was rising.

"Virgil…!" Gordon protested weakly.

"Please be quiet, Virgil," Scott hissed. "You'll wake everyone."

"They don't care about me so why should I worry about them?" Virgil asked loudly. "If you're not prepared to tell me the truth I'll have to leave here and find it myself."

"Virgil," Scott tried to keep the situation under control. "Be reasonable. How could you leave? This is an island."

"I don't know but I'll find a way."

"Please, sit down and we'll discuss this rationally," Scott begged. "I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but… oh, heck. I'll admit it! I chickened out. Let's talk now. Please…"

"No. I'm past talking. You've all been talking to me for this last month. Telling me all sorts of lies…"

"We haven' lied to you," Gordon slurred.

"More lies!" Virgil snapped.

"Guys, quieten down," Scott tried again. "We'll wake everyone up if we carry on like this."

Virgil glared at him. "Are you afraid that they'll find out that you've let the cat out of the bag?"

"Nothin's been let out of the bag, 'cause there's nothin' to be let out." Gordon's tired brain was struggling with the conversation.

"We don't want to worry anyone," Scott insisted. "Come and sit down and we'll talk about it." He took a step towards the coffee machine to get Virgil a cup.

"No! Keep away from me!"

"But I was only…"

"For Pete's sake!" Gordon had reached the end of his endurance. "Grab him and shake him out of it, Scott! Knock some sense into him!"

"Gordon!" Scott admonished, but it was too late. Frightened by the perceived threats of physical violence, Virgil had fled. "Virgil!" Scott yelled, forgetting his own pleas for quiet. "He didn't mean it! Come back!" He took off after his brother.

Gordon attempted to follow. He had made it as far as the hall when he stopped, the walls appearing to spin about him. "What have I done?" he moaned as his legs gave out on him and he slid down the doorjamb to the floor. "I've ruined everything…"

Two fuzzy shapes swam into view.

"What's going on?" Jeff growled.

Gordon blinked at the fuzzy shape that was his dad. "It's my fault. Virgil's run away…"

"He's what?" John asked.

"He heard us talkin'. I said… I dunno… Can't 'member."

"John! Get your brother into bed," Jeff commanded.

"Come on, Gordon," John said gently. "On your feet."

"Sorry, John," Gordon moaned again. "I've ruin' everythin'."

"No you haven't. It only seems like that because you're tired. Now come on." John hefted his brother into a standing position.

Gordon leant on John and allowed himself to be led down the hallway. "Tin-Tin's gonna hate me," he moaned. "Virgil already does."

"No he doesn't," John soothed.

When they drew level with Jeff Tracy he stopped them. "I'm sorry, Gordon. I should have done something before it got this far."

Gordon looked at his father blankly before John dragged him away.

* * *

Scott was fit, and he knew Tracy Island intimately. They were two advantages that he had over Virgil.

Virgil's advantage was that he was terrified of the fate that might befall him if he allowed himself to fall into the clutches of those people who called themselves his family. Fear and adrenaline gave him a speed that he didn't know he possessed.

They tore along a dirt track in the early morning darkness, neither gaining an advantage over the other. Scott occasionally caught glimpses of his brothers fleeing form. At these times he'd call out. "Virgil! I don't want to hurt you!"

Virgil ignored him. How could he believe him after what he'd heard?

On they ran.

Scott came to a fork in the track. He stopped, unsure which way to go. Broken branches pointed left, but his gut instinct told him to head to the right. A welcome voice came out of his watch. "Go right, Scott." Scott didn't acknowledge his father's call, but obeyed the command.

Virgil was congratulating himself on tricking his pursuer by cutting across from one track to the other, when he heard the now familiar footsteps behind him. He took flight again.

* * *

Jeff ignored the fact that his dressing gown was still behind the door to his room, and that his pyjama top hung open. Satellites tracked his sons' watches and traced their movements on a computerised map of Tracy Island.

His full concentration was on this computer screen and the way the yellow dot was drawing closer and closer to the edge of the island…

* * *

The land here was exposed to the oceanic storms. Trees and bushes were stunted and scrubby, leaning away from the prevailing wind. The track was overgrown and in places nearly impassable. Virgil didn't stop though, pushing through branches that tore at his clothing and scratched at his skin.

Scott's heart was in his mouth. He knew where they were. He knew that dangerous bluffs were waiting to catch the unwary. He also knew that Virgil hadn't been to this part of the island since his accident, and in the dark... "Virgil! Stop!" he yelled again through gasping breaths. A branch ripped at his face but he ignored the stinging trail it left. He pushed himself harder, willing Virgil to stop before he reached the hidden cliffs.

He turned the corner and found himself at the end of the path. It was a clearing not much bigger than his bedroom, bordered to the left by vertical cliffs rising upwards, and in front and to the right by a sheer drop falling downwards.

There was no sign of Virgil.

Dread filled Scott's system. Had his brother gone crashing down into the sea below? He took a breath to steady his nerves and, with real trepidation, walked to the edge of the cliff…

* * *

"There you are," John aided Gordon to the side of his bed.

"I can't go to sleep now," Gordon babbled. "I need to apologise to Virgil. Need to set things straight. I can't sleep knowing that he hates me. Tin-Tin will really hate me now. She'll want to kill me. The swimming pool will seem like a harmless tiff. I should apologise!" He tried to stand.

John gave him a gentle push and he sat down again. "You can apologise later, when you're both feeling better." John removed his brother's slippers. "Now lie down and sleep."

"But I won't be able to sleep. Not now. He doesn't believe us, John."

"Doesn't believe what?"

Gordon looked at his brother and John could clearly see the exhaustion in his face. Gordon looked to be about ninety years old. "He doesn't believe that we're his family. He doesn't believe that we're his brothers."

John gave what he hoped was a reassuring chuckle. "You definitely need to catch up on your sleep, Gordon. That just doesn't make sense."

"It's true. Ask any of them. Ask Dad. Ask Tin-Tin. Ask Grandma. Ask Kyrano. Ask Al…"

"Okay, Gordon, I've got the picture. Now lie down."

"But I have to apologise," Gordon protested as John grabbed him by the shoulders and eased him into the bed.

"Okay. You'll be able to apologise later… Where's your pillow?"

"In Virgil's room."

"I'll go get it. You lie there and try to sleep."

"I won't be able to, John," Gordon attempted to sit up again. "All I can think about is what I've said. You heard what I said didn't you? I said I wished Virgil had died. How could I?"

"I heard, Gordon. But you don't feel like that now do you?"

"No… No, of course not. I love him. He's my brother. I should tell him…" Gordon swung his legs out of the bed.

John grabbed them before they could touch the floor and swung them back, pulling the bedclothes up hurriedly. "Now lie there quietly and try to sleep while I go get your pillow."

"I won't be able to sleep," Gordon insisted as John walked out the door.

When John returned to the room carrying the pillow, Gordon was dead to the world. John smiled to himself as he gently placed the pillow under his brother's head. Now that Gordon was relaxed, the years he'd aged had dropped away. His face held the peaceful countenance of a sleeping child.

Gordon didn't stir as John pulled the bedclothes up and tucked them around his shoulders. Then the older Tracy checked that the blinds were tightly drawn and the alarm was turned off. He stopped to check on the sleeping form one more time before leaving the room.

"Pleasant dreams, Gordon."

* * *

"I'm dreaming," Scott tried to tell himself. "Only it's a nightmare!" He looked down. All he could see in the dim light of the approaching sun was the fluorescence of the white spray as the Pacific Ocean raged against the rocks.

Virgil wouldn't have stood a chance.

All Scott could think of was how was he going to tell his family that he'd failed. That his brother had died running in fear from him. That Virgil died not knowing that his family loved him and cared for him. That Virgil had died believing that Scott wanted to cause him harm.

Scott felt sick. What would life be like without Virgil's music, without his voice, without his face… without him?

They had to organise a search now if there were to be any chance of finding Virgil's body. They'd have to get Thunderbird Four out straight away. Scott would have rather told his father the bad news face to face, but time was of the essence. The family would have to learn what had happened over the radio.

He couldn't take the scene before him any longer. He'd have to be strong to face his family; the time for grief was later. He turned away to try to get some control on his emotions, raising his arm to activate his wristwatch telecom.

He stopped.

Curled up in a foetal position in the shadows of the cliff face was Virgil.

Scott was so relieved he could have cried. He stepped forward. "Virgil! You're alright!"

"Keep away." Virgil croaked and tried to cram himself further into a crevasse, his face distorted with fear. A sprinkle of dust fell about him.

"Virgil? It's me, Scott."

"I know what you say your name is. But who are you?"

"I'm your brother…" Scott took another step forward.

"Keep back!" Virgil adjusted his position and took up a large stick to ward off Scott's advances. He looked as if he were ready to flee again. "Don't come any closer!"

"Okay, I won't." Scott halted. "But let's talk, okay?" He took a step back and swallowed. "Look, in case you're thinking of running again let me warn you that this is the end of the line for this path. Keep going in any of those directions," his arms formed an arc of about 190º, "and you'll end up in the ocean. The bluff behind you climbs straight up to the summit of the island. The only way out is back the way we came."

"I don't want to go back. Not there. Not to them. I want to get away from here. Away from all of you!"

"Please, Virgil. Don't say that. We all care for you. You're a member of our family. We want to help you."

"Gordon wants to get rid of me."

"Gordon feels terrible about what he said."

"He wants to lock me in a room and leave me there!"

"Huh?" Scott frowned. "How'd you get that idea?"

"He said that! This morning!"

"When?"

"When he was talking to you."

"No he didn't."

"He said I was like Braman. Who's Braman! Is he like me? Have you wiped his memory too?"

"Braman!"

"Maybe it's not Gordon who wants to lock me away. Maybe it's you!"

"Virgil…" Now Scott understood. "Braman is Brains' robot."

"Robot?"

Scott nodded. "That's right. Brains made him, but he hasn't had time to work on him for the last few months so he's stored him away. That's what Gordon was talking about this morning." He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Robot?" Virgil repeated. "Is that what I am? Is that why I can't remember anything? Was the moment I 'woke up' the moment you switched me on? Am I supposed to be 'programmed' just like that 'Virgil 2' computer on Thunderbird Five!"

"Virgil! Calm down, you're not thinking clearly. You're human! You're as human as I am. See, you're bleeding just like me." Scott displayed his own scratched arms. "You're my brother and at the moment you could say we're blood brothers."

"Are you lying to me again?"

"I've never lied to you."

Virgil looked at him in disbelief.

"Come out from under there and we'll talk about everything," Scott offered.

Virgil shook his head and backed further into his niche. More dirt fell.

Scott looked at the area surrounding his brother. "I don't like the look of that rock face, Virgil. It doesn't look too safe." Automatically he stepped forward…

"Keep back!" Virgil waved his stick wildly. It caught a rock in the cliff, which was dislodged. He continued to brandish his weapon like a sword. A few pebbles fell, bouncing off his head and shoulders. He ducked and blinked as the dust blinded him temporarily.

"Virgil," Scott said with urgency. "Get out of there!"

"No!"

The cliff above his head collapsed…


	17. Seventeen

**Seventeen**

"Here's your robe, Dad."

"Hmm? Oh, thank you, John." Jeff Tracy glanced absently at his son and didn't accept the dressing gown.

John continued to hold it out to him before placing it over the back of a chair. "What's happened?"

"They're both up at the bluff. For a while there I thought Virgil was going to run off the edge."

"He what! What are they doing now?"

"I don't know. I've got their heart rhythms on screen and they're racing about like crazy. Scott's is easing off a bit now."

"Using their watches? And I thought I was nosy with our technology," John leant over his father's shoulder so that he could see the screen.

"I don't like doing it, but it's the best gauge we've got of what's going on. I don't want to tell Scott to put his watch onto transmit in case my call spooks Virgil even more…" Jeff glanced at John. "Did Gordon say why he ran?"

John shook his head. "No. He wasn't making much sense. He's exhausted. He was sound asleep before his head touched the pillow."

"Did he say anything?"

"He was going on about having to apologise. Said both Virgil and Tin-Tin would be hating him. He's regretting what he said the other day."

Jeff cast a slightly longer look at John. "But he apologised for that and, from what I understand, Virgil forgave him. There has to be more to it. What else did he say?"

"What he said didn't make sense. He's tired."

This time Jeff turned his full attention to his son. "What did Gordon say, John?"

John felt almost foolish. "That Virgil didn't believe that we're his family." He fully expected his father to dismiss the idea.

Instead Jeff nodded slowly. "I thought as much."

"You thou…? Why?"

"Just little things. The odd comment. Things he's said… or hasn't."

"Huh? Who does he think we are then?"

"I don't know..." Jeff turned his attention back to the computer screen.

They watched the monitor in silence. Then…

"Wow! Did you see the way Scott's heart rate spiked?" John exclaimed.

Jeff didn't answer. His attention was consumed by the readout the computer was receiving from Virgil's watch.

They both jumped when an unexpected alert sounded from Alan's portrait.

Jeff activated the link. "Go ahead, Alan."

"Dad… Good, I'm glad you're there, John."

"Why? What's wrong?" John asked.

"We've got a call out." Alan paused. "There's a car trapped halfway down a cliff…"

"You're kidding!" John exclaimed.

"Two occupants…"

"It's got to be a hoax," John stated. "We rescued two people from their car less than a month ago!"

"What do you think, Alan," his father asked. "Is it a hoax or a coincidence?"

"I'm inclined to agree with John, but I'd like your opinion too."

"Play it, Alan," Jeff commanded.

They listened in silence as a panicked individual pleaded with Alan for International Rescue's assistance. When the recording finished John nodded. "It's a hoax," he stated emphatically.

"I agree," Jeff said. "Tell them we're sorry, but we're unable to help, Alan."

Alan hesitated. "I was pretty certain that it was a hoax when they called, so that's what I did. But then they showed me something that made me wonder…"

* * *

Scott didn't have time to think. As the rocks above Virgil's head started descending he darted in and grabbed his brother, pulling him to safety. Virgil didn't protest as he was dragged out from under the potentially deadly rock fall.

Debris and rocks flew about them, hitting them and coating them in a grimy layer of dust. They ran as far as they dared, stopping at the edge of the bluff, panting slightly from exertion and fear. Fortunately the rock fall subsided before it reached the two brothers. They looked at each other. Brown eyes met blue and an unspoken message of thanks passed between them.

Scott realised that he still had a firm grip on Virgil's arms and let go, raising his own hands in a submissive gesture as he took two steps backwards. "I don't want to hurt you, Virgil."

Virgil watched him in surprise.

"Can we talk?" Scott asked.

Whatever reply Virgil had in mind was interrupted when a sound came from Scott's watch.

Scott took another step backwards, coming dangerously close to the edge of the cliff and lowered his arm. "Scott here," he said as the light from his watch cast an eerie glow over his face.

His father sounded apologetic, "We've got a call out. International Rescue needs you."

"What! Not now!" Scott exclaimed in frustration.

"I know, but there's a couple of people trapped in a car halfway down a c…" A small rock fall drowned out the remainder of Jeff's sentence.

But Scott had heard enough. "C'mon!" he protested. "It's got to be a hoax. That last rescue was widely publicised. It's a copycat…"

"That's what we all thought," Jeff interrupted. "I'm still not convinced, but they had live video of the car. That's why I want you out there as soon as possible to ascertain the legitimacy of their call. John, Brains and Tin-Tin have already left in Thunderbird Two in case it is genuine." As if to punctuate his statement the roar of Thunderbird Two reached them and the lights and silhouette of the mighty plane could be seen zooming out over the dark ocean. "Please, Son. You could be there and back before Thunderbird Two is halfway there. I don't want Brains and Tin-Tin to be involved unnecessarily."

"Okay," Scott acquiesced with evident reluctance. "I'm heading back now." He lowered his arm and looked at Virgil. "I'm sorry. I really want us to talk. Maybe when I get back from the rescue?"

Virgil nodded slowly.

"Um… The only way back is that way," Scott pointed past Virgil. "Would you mind if I slipped past?"

Virgil stood aside, clambering onto some of the rock fall.

"Thanks." Scott scooted between his brother and the edge of the bluff. "Be careful, okay? I'll see you back at the house." He started pushing hurriedly through the scrub.

Virgil watched him go, thinking over the events of the last few minutes. What had happened here? Scott had had ample opportunity to capture him, he'd even had a good grip on him, and yet he'd chosen to let him go free.

'_Maybe I have been wrong,'_ Virgil thought_. 'Maybe they are my family... Maybe they do save lives… Scott saved mine.'_ He started making his slow way back towards the house following the track he'd forged only minutes earlier. He was halfway there when he heard another roar. He stopped and gave a wave as Thunderbird One shot upwards into the still light of dawn and then rotated till it was flying at speed away from the island…

The island!

"Of course!" Virgil exclaimed out loud. "You're a fool, Virgil. He knows you can't escape. This is an island! It's a trick to lull you into a false sense of security!"

* * *

Jeff watched as his son's heart rate steadily increased again. "What's going on, Virgil?" he asked quietly.

* * *

Instead of making his way back to the villa, Virgil carefully skirted the complex until he was close to the aircraft hangar. Once he was close enough he crouched down behind a rock and surveyed the area. All was still in the early morning calm and he dashed across the exposed runway and ducked through the hangar door.

Once inside he paused to catch his breath and to get his bearings. If he remembered correctly there was a hidden door that led into Thunderbird Two's hangar. He dismissed that thought. Thunderbird Two wasn't here, so the hangar held no attraction to him.

Virgil turned his attention to one of the family jets sitting innocently, waiting to be called into service. It was unlocked and he climbed inside, making his way to the pilot's seat, into which he slid awkwardly. He looked at the controls. Those people had told him that he was a pilot, and yet he had no idea what any of these instruments meant. And, if he was honest with himself, he wouldn't be able work it out because he couldn't read them anyway.

* * *

A worried man watched him unseen. _'You wouldn't try, would you, Virgil?'

* * *

_

Placing his hands on the steering yoke, Virgil gave it a tentative turn, hoping that some of the memories associated with the operation of this machine would return. He was disappointed when they didn't.

Even attempting to fly a plane was clearly out of the question. If he was lucky enough to get it off the ground without being killed, or worse, caught, the thought of trying to land again made his blood run cold. Chances were he'd end up crashing it into the Pacific Ocean.

The Pacific Ocean?

Now there was a possibility! Gordon had shown him the 'family' yacht and had even given him a brief lesson on how to operate it. Surely he could use it well enough to get away from this place. At least he wouldn't crash and burn.

* * *

Jeff breathed a sigh of relief when the yellow dot departed the hangars. "Now where are you going?"

* * *

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One."

"Thunderbird One. What's up, John?"

"I've got you on my radar."

"I can see you too…" The blip that was Thunderbird Two disappeared off the screen. "Well I could."

John chuckled. "You speed demon."

Scott had too many worries on his mind to laugh. As he left Thunderbird Two in his wake his thoughts turned to home. "How's Gordon?"

"Asleep. He's burned himself out."

"I'm not surprised. I could see it coming this morning."

"So what happened?"

Scott hesitated.

"Don't worry, Scott. It's only you and me in on this conversation. And the Brat in the Sky. I'm not talking to him, but even he deserves to know what's going on."

Alan made no comment about his new nickname, but both Scott and John were confident that he was listening.

Scott thought for a moment. "Where are Brains and Tin-Tin?"

"Reacquainting themselves with the equipment. Brains is going down… That's if he has to."

"You're sure it's a hoax?"

"90 percent sure. If it wasn't for the video I'd be 100 percent convinced."

"Videos can be altered."

"Don't I know it. No, somehow the video seemed genuine. It's just the caller who's fake. I'd lay odds on that you'll have us turning back before we get there."

"And if it is a fake I'll have great pleasure in giving that caller a piece of my mind! Where do people get off calling emergency organisations just because they feel like it? Don't they realise someone in genuine need could get seriously hurt or killed? I'd like to take him and…!"

"Whoa, Scott! Calm down. Think about International Rescue's good name. We don't want it in the media that one of our members took a swing at someone," John said anxiously. "It's serious, but it's not THAT serious."

"Don't you believe it! I think I'd actually managed to at least get Virgil to listen to me and then this happens!"

"What happened this morning?" John asked quietly.

Scott brought his feelings of anger back under control. "Gordon was talking to me. We thought we were alone. He was saying things that… that I'm pretty sure he didn't mean, only he was that tired he wasn't really aware that he was saying them." He gave John a rundown of the morning's conversation.

"Gordon said that!"

"Yep. And Virgil heard him. He's taken it as proof positive that we're some kind of… I don't know… some kind of mafia wanting to use him for our nefarious schemes or something."

"That'd be funny if he wasn't serious."

"Well he is serious. When Gordon told me to 'knock some sense into him', Virgil took it literally."

"Gordon didn't mean it literally did he?"

"No, of course not. Even an exhausted Gordon stops short at physical violence."

"So Virgil ran away?"

"Yep. Up to the bluffs. It was that dark we could hardly see where we were going. I'm amazed that he managed to keep to the path and to push through all that scrub. It's almost impenetrable."

"I can see that. That scratch on your cheek has started bleeding."

Scott pressed the back of his hand against his face and looked at it. It was stained with a streak of blood. He ran the hand through his hair and felt the grit from the dust of the rock fall. "I should have got cleaned up before I left."

"You didn't have time. And you can tell our friends at the 'danger zone' that you were dragged away from a genuine emergency… which is true."

Scott continued on with his tale. "I thought he'd gone over the cliff, John. I reached the end of the track and there was no sign of him. It was so dark that there was no way that he could have seen the danger. All I could think was how was I going to tell everyone… I was going to have to say that I'd failed! That I'd let Virgil die!" His voice cracked, betraying some of the anguish that he'd experienced in that short moment.

John gave Scott a moment to recover a sense of equilibrium, guessing that this was part of the reason why he was so uptight now. "So where was he?"

"Curled up in a hollow in the cliff."

"Safe?"

"Yeah. Physically he was fine, though he's got as many scratches as I do. Emotionally he was a wreck. He was convinced that we were going to lock him away in a room somewhere like Braman."

"Like Braman?"

"I explained that Braman was a robot and he calmed down slightly, until I tried to get closer…"

"And…"

"And… he started threatening me with a big stick. He would have hit me if I'd got close enough. He was terrified that I was going to hurt him. " Scott's voice rose an octave. "I wouldn't, John! I'd never hurt any of you guys!"

"I know, Scott," John said gently. "Virgil knows too. He's just forgotten at the moment."

Scott took a deep breath "He's waving this stick around, knocking away rocks and things. I could see the whole cliff face was going to collapse, so I grabbed him and pulled him away… just in time too."

"Ah. So that explains the spike," John reflected.

"Spike?"

"We, Dad and I, were watching your movements on the computer. Dad had your heart rhythms on screen to try to get some idea of how things were going. I saw your heart rate do a big jump and then the Brat called in with this rescue."

"John!" Alan complained.

They ignored him.

Scott continued on. "It was then that he started to calm down. I think he realised that I didn't want to hurt him. I thought that I was going to be able to have a sensible conversation with him, and then…" he petered out miserably.

"And then Dad called you?" John prompted.

"Yeah." Scott lapsed into a moody silence.

"I wouldn't worry, Scott," John said, trying to reassure his brother. "This is Virgil we're talking about. He may not know who you are… or who he is, but somehow, deep down, I'm sure that bond between the pair of you still exists. It's too strong for a little thing like amnesia to break."

"I wish," Scott said quietly.

"Did you know that, when we were kids, there were times when I was jealous of the pair of you?"

"John?" Scott hadn't been expecting this.

"I know that I tended to choose my own pastimes, that I was happier with my nose in a book than getting dirty in the backyard. But there were times when I was jealous about the way you and Virg were…"

"Virgil," Scott corrected automatically.

"…Virgil were happiest playing together. You always had a friend to share things with and so did he. There were times when I felt I was missing out on a friendship like that."

"John… I didn't realise…" Scott was starting to do what he did best, care for his brothers at the expense of his own emotions.

This was what John hoped would happen. "No. Well it wasn't all the time, but why do you think I was always willing to let you two tie me to those trees, while you pranced around as if you'd captured a dangerous criminal? They're not the most comfortable backrests you know."

"I don't understand," Scott frowned, his face illuminated by the lights from Thunderbird One's control panel as the rocket plane soared through the night sky outside.

"Because it gave me a chance to do what I enjoyed, reading, and I was still able to be part of your games. I felt like, even though it was on the periphery, I was part of your team."

"I'm sorry, John. I… we didn't know."

"Don't be sorry. It was the way I was, and the way you two were... I would like to know something though…"

"Yeah?" Scott asked with curiosity.

"Whose bright idea was it to sit me on the ants nest, Butch?"

Scott barked out a laugh. "If I said Virgil would you believe me?"

"Only because he can't remember to tell me the truth."

"It looked a nice, soft, round place to sit. We were thinking of you, you know."

"Yeah, sure…" John drawled. "You didn't think of me when they started biting and, instead of untying me, you two started laughing."

"Sorry, John," Scott smiled.

"And by the time you did condescend to untie me, they'd crawled into my shorts!"

"Boy, did you move! Straight into the swimming pool. You nearly drowned Gordon."

"I wouldn't mind betting I did a lap of that pool quicker than Gordon ever did… before or since."

Scott laughed again. "And then you took your shorts off…"

"…And all these dead ants started floating up around me."

"And Alan and Tin-Tin walked into the yard!"

John reddened, a scarlet light on Thunderbird Two's console accentuating his colouration. "I was so embarrassed. Even if it was only Tin-Tin, there were still some things I wasn't keen on letting her see."

"I remember you were trying to hide against the side of the pool and get your shorts on at the same time."

"Yeah, and I could see Gordon's brain ticking over, trying to find some way of embarrassing me further."

"So could we. That's why we chased her. It was okay for us two to tease you, but you were off limits to anyone else. Especially when it was our fault."

"That always amazed me. Neither of you said anything to each other, but you both yelled 'Indian' at once and took off together after Tin-Tin. Next thing I know Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid are running after this little girl who's protesting 'I'm not Indian. I'm Malaysian!'."

Scott smiled at the memory. "It wasn't politically correct, but it achieved what we wanted, which was to give you some space to get decent."

"Yeah, but your synchronisation was perfect… I don't know how you do it."

"Well, you know what they say about great minds thinking alike…"

"Yeah, and fools seldom differ."

Scott chuckled, "and then that evening Father asked why you couldn't sit still… Remember what he said?"

"He asked if I had ants in my pants, and then wondered why you all cracked up." John looked at the chronometer. "You must be getting close."

"Coming up to the danger zone now." Scott zoomed in on a scene with his video monitor.

"How's it look?"

"No one's panicking. No one's rushing about and…"

"Yes?"

"There's a lot of video cameras on site."

"What! Are they filming you?"

"No. The cameras are pointing at the ground, and the automatic camera detector's not registering anything."

"So what are they playing at?"

"I'll swing round and check out our 'victims'." Scott lowered Thunderbird One into the canyon and cruised past the car slowly. "I've never known people in danger of imminent death to lean out of a car window and cheerfully wave at me before."

"Want me to turn back?" John asked.

"No. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt until I've actually spoken to someone."

"This is from the man who was ready to slam someone up against a wall and smash his face in."

"Yeah," Scott said wryly. "Thanks, John. Your little chat worked."

"Anytime, Scott. Just so long as it doesn't involve ants."

"Alan! Tell base I'm coming in to land, and I don't think I'll be here long," Scott ordered.

"F-A-B," the 'Brat in the Sky' replied.

"And don't forget to emphasise that you were called away from another emergency," John reminded his brother, omitting to add that Scott had inadvertently rubbed the scratch on his cheek and caused it to bleed again.

* * *

Virgil approached the boat shed with less trepidation than he had the hangar. No one could know that he was here, so he felt safe. Confidently he walked up to the door.

* * *

"Oh, no you don't," Jeff entered a combination into the computer that locked the door to the boathouse. "Sorry, Virgil. I've never not trusted you like this before."

* * *

Virgil tried the door. It wouldn't open. He frowned trying to remember how Gordon had gained access when they'd visited here last. He was sure there had been no locking mechanism involved.

He looked in a window. Nestled safely on her ramp was the family yacht. He could just see the name on her hull and remembered it was called Lucille. It had been named after his mother…

His mother?

Why had he thought that? Why not their mother? Why not the person he'd been told was his mother? Why not the mythical person in the video and photos?

Virgil rubbed his forehead in confusion. For some reason it didn't occur to him to try to break the glass of the window and instead he walked back towards the door. There was a keypad here. Experimentally he punched in a number…

* * *

"How'd you remember that?" Jeff exclaimed as he quickly re-entered the combination that slid the bolt home again. "Your memories are still there, Virgil. Why won't you believe us?"

* * *

Virgil pushed at the door in frustration. He'd thought he'd heard the lock un-snip, but just as quickly there'd been an accompanying sound that sounded as if it had slipped back into place. He tried another combination on the keypad, but didn't get the same result. He kicked at the door in frustration.

Now what?

He was trapped. Trapped on an island and held captive by this strange family. He could hide somewhere, but there looked to be rain approaching and the idea of holing up in a drafty cave didn't hold any appeal. Of course if he went back to the house he could possibly sneak in and lock himself in his room. They wouldn't know he was there and at least he'd be comfortable. It seemed to be the best idea and he started tracking back up the hill.

Once at the villa Virgil cautiously let himself back in via a side entrance. He'd nearly reached his goal when a gentle tread and swish of silk robes told him that someone was coming. He ducked into a nearby cupboard and waited as Kyrano serenely walked past. He congratulated himself on not being spotted and hunkered down to wait till he was sure that the way was clear.

* * *

"Mister Virgil is hiding in the hallway," Kyrano said conversationally as he placed a full pot of coffee and a mug on Jeff's desk.

"I know," Jeff replied. "I've been tracking him since he bolted. I feel more like an Orwellian 'Big Brother' than his father."

Kyrano nodded as if this were a perfectly normal turn of events. "Should I prepare breakfast, Mr Tracy?"

Jeff looked at the clock. "Wait an hour, then start brunch. I think everyone should be close to home by then."

Kyrano nodded his understanding and turned to leave.

"Kyrano," Jeff added. "Make it something special. I've got a feeling they are not going to be happy when they get home."

"Yes, Mr Tracy." Once again Kyrano made to make for the door.

"Hang on, Kyrano!" Jeff commanded.

Kyrano turned back.

"Virgil's on the move… Good, he's gone into his room," Jeff said as he watched the computer. "We'll give him a moment to get settled. I don't want him to know that we know where he is."

"Mr Tracy?"

"He doesn't trust us, Kyrano. He doesn't believe we're his family."

"Ah," said Kyrano.

"You don't sound surprised."

"I am not."

"No," Jeff said reflectively. "Neither was I." He stood. "I think he's on his bed. I'll go get washed and dressed, and then come back here."

"I shall see what we will have for brunch… Do you think Mister Virgil will be joining us?"

Jeff looked at his manservant and friend. "I don't know…"

* * *

Virgil sat in his room. He still felt trapped. Trapped by this group of people or trapped in the nightmare that was amnesia, he wasn't sure. But he was definitely trapped.

The funny thing was he wanted to believe that he had a father and four brothers. He wanted to believe that he was a member of an altruistic organisation. He wanted to believe that he was the pilot of an amazing flying machine.

So why couldn't he believe it?

What had Gordon said this morning? 'I'm sick of all this.' '…Break our cover.' '…Doing the supportive brother act.' 'We've all got to continue pretending to play happy families.' 'We're all living a lie.'

Living a lie?

Gordon had lied to him.

He'd trusted Gordon most of all.

Virgil felt betrayed.

He had to get out of here.

He couldn't run away alone, he'd discovered that the hard way. He had to get outside help. But how?

How could he get help when he couldn't read, couldn't write, couldn't…

Wait a minute. There was one thing that he could remember how to use… well kind of…

The videophone.

Virgil sighed and rested his head against the headboard of the bed. What use was that if he didn't have anyone to ring. If he could read, he could look up a phone number, but his literacy skills weren't good enough yet.

Then he remembered the last number re-dial button.

It was a gamble, but Virgil figured that 'International Rescue' wouldn't use a standard phone for their secretive messages. Odds would be that the 'phone would be used for ordinary, everyday 'phone calls. Calls to people who were not part of their clandestine group.

What would he say? 'Help. I'm held captive by a group of people pretending to be my family and some organisation called International Rescue? I'm stuck on an island in the middle of… the South Pacific Ocean? And, by the way, I don't know who I am because I've got amnesia?'

Virgil shook his head. No. It wouldn't work. But what other option did he have? He got off the bed and surreptitiously opened the door to the hallway.

The hall was empty.

Now, where could he find a videophone? There was one in the lounge, but that was a public area. He could be discovered.

He crept stealthily down the hall to the door to the lounge. To his surprise the room was empty. Without stopping to consider his actions, he ran quietly across the soft carpet to the desk. He stared at the 'phone. He still had no idea what he was going to say…

Well he'd just have to wing it.

He reached out a hand to the re-dial button…


	18. Eighteen

** Eighteen**

"What are you doing?"

Although unthreatening, Virgil jumped when he heard the unexpected voice behind him. He swung around quickly and tripped over one of the supports of the swivel chair. He fell into the seat.

Jeff Tracy looked at him impassively. "Well?"

"I… uh… I…" Virgil stammered.

Jeff looked from his son to the videophone and Virgil detected a saddening of his features. "You were going to try to 'phone someone weren't you."

Virgil decided that the safest option was to say nothing.

"You thought we'd all be elsewhere?"

Virgil looked at an ink spot on the desk.

"I didn't realise you remembered how to use a 'phone. Who were you going to call?"

Virgil examined the spot thoroughly.

"Were you going to press the re-dial button and take pot luck?"

Virgil looked at the older man sharply. How come he'd been so astute?

"Had you forgotten that the team has gone on a mission? I rarely leave me desk when any of you are on a rescue."

Not for the first time, Virgil mentally cursed his forgetfulness.

He wasn't startled when the eyes in Scott's portrait started flashing.

"Would you mind if I used my seat?" Jeff asked.

Virgil scurried out from behind the desk and then stopped, unsure of what to do next.

Jeff reclaimed his chair. "Go ahead, Scott."

Scott appeared to be relieved to see Virgil in shot, but stayed businesslike. "As we suspected it was a hoax."

"Any idea who the perpetrators were?" Jeff asked.

"Would you believe that it was some film company who thought that a real rescue, by International Rescue, would be good publicity?" Scott said bitterly. "Apparently the climax of the film involves the hero being stuck down the side of a cliff in a car. They'd even gone so far as to position one of their prop cars and a couple of stunt men on a cliff face for us to rescue. They were never in any danger. I reminded them that while we were off on phoney rescues, someone in genuine need could die because we're not there to help."

"What did they say?" Jeff asked.

"They hadn't thought of that," Scott said ironically. "They were most apologetic."

"You're on your way home then?" Jeff said.

"ETA 17.67 minutes." Then Scott lost his official tone. "How are you, Virgil?"

"Okay," Virgil said briefly.

"Brunch'll be ready when you get home," Jeff said.

"Great. I'm starving."

"When are you ever not hungry?" Jeff chuckled. "See you soon, Son."

"F-A-B, Father."

Jeff wrote something on a piece of paper. Then he swivelled around in his chair and examined his other son reflectively. "I think we'd better continue our conversation in my study, Virgil. We won't be disturbed there."

Virgil reflected that so far it had been a pretty one-sided conversation.

"Are you coming?"

For a moment Virgil realised that he didn't have to do as this man asked. He could hold his ground. He was a free individual. Well… as free as he could be in his present situation.

But for some reason following Jeff Tracy into the study seemed to be the right thing to do.

Jeff strode easily into his room, circled his desk and sat down in his chair. "Have a seat," he indicated the variety of seating about the room.

Virgil hesitated.

"Don't worry. They're not electric and none of them are fitted with manacles."

Virgil, reluctantly, chose a soft seat near the door. He waited to see what Jeff Tracy had to say to him.

For Jeff it was a strange sensation looking at this son whom he knew intimately, and yet hardly at all. He was looking at the face of someone he cared for and yet, at the same time, was a complete stranger.

Virgil looked at Jeff and wished he hated him instead of liking him. He didn't want to upset him and yet he didn't trust him.

Silence filled the room as each man thought his own private thoughts.

Jeff looked at his son speculatively and made a decision about how to handle the situation. "I guess you're finding things pretty tough at the moment, Virgil."

Virgil had been expecting some kind of explosion and was surprised by the quiet tone. "Uh… Yes."

"Tough enough that you wanted to try to escape?"

"I guess."

"Did you know who you were going to call?"

Virgil shook his head.

"You were just going to push the re-dial button and try to make the person at the other end understand your situation?"

Virgil nodded.

"And your situation is that you're not 100 convinced that we are who we say we are…? Or that you are who we say you are?"

Virgil nodded again, this time more reluctantly.

Jeff sighed. "I'm trying to think who I last called on that 'phone. I think, fortunately, that it was Penny… Lady Penelope. She wouldn't have posed a threat…" He sat back, trying to remain calm and non-threatening. "I can see you're struggling with living here. Would you be happier somewhere else? Somewhere away from us? I could arrange something?"

Virgil looked at the other man. This wasn't what he expected. "I-I don't know."

"I'm sure Penny would be more than happy to accommodate you. Though I don't know that being confined within the walls of a stately manor would give you any more freedom than being on a tropical island." Jeff looked at Virgil earnestly. "I'd let you go anywhere you wanted to in the world if I could be sure that you wouldn't betray International Rescue. What you obviously don't realise is that what you were going to do could have been disastrous to us all… I don't just mean that International Rescue would have to be shut down, which would result in the loss of innocent lives, but the life of every person on this island could have been put in jeopardy."

"How?" Virgil asked. "Just by one phone call!"

"There are large rewards out there for anyone with information about us. Not everyone feels loyal to International Rescue. Did anyone tell you why we're a secret organisation?"

"Gordon said that it was to stop 'bad-guys' getting hold the equipment. I'll admit that I've got a better idea now of what equipment he means, but, honestly, is it that big a deal?"

"You haven't seen most of our equipment in action have you? You don't know what The Mole, The Firefly, The Excavator and our other auxiliary craft are capable of. No other organisation in the world has machinery even close to ours."

Virgil was wearing his 'I'm confused' frown.

Jeff continued on. "Think about Thunderbird One. You've seen how fast she can fly. She's equipped with low yield missiles…"

"Why?" Virgil asked.

"Self defence. And they have been used in emergency situations to divert rivers and create dams. Imagine if someone wanted to take over the World Government. Replace our missiles with something with a little more firepower and Thunderbird One could be used to blow up the seat of Government. She'd be in and out of there before any conventional fighter craft could be scrambled to the World President's aid. Then a militia could be flown in onboard Thunderbird Two. And that's only one scenario. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Virgil nodded.

"Do you see why secrecy is absolutely vital?"

Virgil nodded again.

"I won't mention what nearly happened today to your brothers. There's no need for anyone else to know. And I'm going to try to trust you like I used to be able to. But, please, Virgil, don't force me to password protect every 'phone on the island. Do you understand?"

Virgil nodded a third time.

"I wish I could understand fully what you're going through, but I can't really know. It's not like you're blind or deaf and I could wear a blindfold or earplugs. I can't begin to imagine what it's like for you. I thought you were doing so well, accepting it, accepting us... I guess we haven't known the strain you've been under."

"No," Virgil said quietly.

"So tell me."

"Huh?" Virgil looked at the man he'd been told was his father.

"Explain to me what it's like."

"What it's like," Virgil repeated. "Well…"

Jeff waited patiently.

"It's… like… I've suddenly been transported to another planet. One totally different to the one I know. I'm almost inclined to believe Gordon!"

"What did Gordon say?"

"That you were members of an alien race who'd kidnapped me and wiped my memory."

Jeff grinned. "And why had we done that?"

"Something about taking over the world?"

Jeff laughed. "That sounds like Gordon. He watches too many science fiction movies."

"I can't say what having amnesia is like, because I don't know. I don't have anything I can relate it too. And if I do, I can't remember it!"

Jeff nodded sagely and then thought for a moment. "Are you happy here?" he eventually asked.

Virgil shrugged. "Sometimes."

"Would you rather try living somewhere else?"

"Yes…" Virgil thought a moment. "No… I don't know… I don't fully understand what's going on here… but the idea of going somewhere totally new…" He shivered.

"Well, let me know if you change your mind. The only thing holding you prisoner, Virgil, is your amnesia. That and your unwillingness to trust us… I used to be able to trust you, and it hurts that I can't now. If the old you knew what you were going to do you'd be horrified"

Virgil looked at his hands.

There was a knock on the door.

"I won't mention the 'phone call again," Jeff said, and then, before Virgil had a chance to comment, called out, "Come in, Scott."

The door slid open revealing Scott, clean and in his civilian clothes. "I got your note."

Virgil looked accusingly at Jeff.

"I want you both here to explain to me what happened this morning," Jeff explained.

"Is Gordon asleep?" Scott asked as he settled in a chair on the other side of the room from Virgil.

"Last time I looked in he was dead to the world," his father told him. "Now, Virgil, perhaps you'd like to tell me your side of the story."

Virgil decided he should at least try to explain his case. "I heard Gordon get up this morning. I didn't know what the time was so I thought it must be time for me to get up too. I went into the kitchen and Gordon and Scott were talking. When I realised that they were talking about me I waited, and listened."

"What did they say?" Jeff asked

Virgil gave him a rundown of Gordon's statements that morning.

Jeff looked at Scott.

"He's right," Scott confirmed. "Gordon did say that."

"Why?" Jeff frowned.

"He was tired. He was letting off steam. You know how he gets."

Jeff nodded. "I do, and you do, but Virgil doesn't."

"He said you were living a lie," Virgil accused.

Jeff looked back at his son. "What Gordon said about 'living a lie' is perfectly true. I used that phrase myself in a letter to your… in a letter the other day."

Scott stared at his father wondering if he knew what he was doing.

Jeff continued with his explanation. "What I meant, and I'm pretty sure Gordon meant the same thing, is that we're trying to continue to live as if nothing's wrong… As if nothing's wrong with you…"

Virgil gave an unintelligible grunt.

Scott nodded slowly in agreement. "He is right. We are. And as John said, we're making a hash of it."

Virgil looked doubtful.

"I wish I knew what evidence you need so that we can convince you that we haven't lied," Jeff said. "I even asked Brains if he had anything that could give me temporary amnesia so I could find out."

Virgil stared at him. "What!"

"You too?" Scott asked. "I did as well. Shame he didn't have anything… well anything he felt safe using on us."

"Why?" Virgil asked. "Why would you want to put yourself through this… this… torture?"

"I want to know what it's like for you," Scott explained. "If we knew, perhaps we'd be more understanding towards you."

"How stupid can you be? That has got to be one of the most idiotic ideas ever! That anyone would willingly try to get amnesia…" Virgil threw up his hands in exasperation. "You don't want to live through this! I don't want to live through this! I don't want you to live through this! You mean too much to me…" He finished this seemingly contradictory statement, looked at the two surprised faces, frowned in confusion, and looked away.

"I don't fully appreciate what it's like," Scott explained. "I want to understand it better."

"Virgil told me that it's like being taken to another planet," Jeff said.

"Another planet?"

"And we're an alien species who have wiped his memory so we can take over the world."

"Aliens?" Scott said, astounded, and then grinned. "Gordon?" he guessed.

"Gordon," Jeff confirmed.

Scott chuckled. "Typical. Trust him to come up with something like that."

Virgil had been listening to the pair of them in astonishment. Now he was getting angry. "What are you laughing at? Do you really want to know what I feel? To not know your own past? To not remember your own family? Your own life? Do you know that I wake up every morning and have to make a conscious effort to remember? 'Who am I? – Virgil Tracy. Where am I? – At home on Tracy Island. Who else is here? – My family – my brothers – my father – my grandmother – my friends.' I have to tell myself this every day. Do you know that every day I have to have faith that you are who you say you are? But I don't KNOW that you are my family…"

"Virgil," Jeff said soothingly.

By now Virgil was shaking with emotion. "I've seen the family photos and videos, but it would not be difficult for you to make up this history… my history. I've seen that you have the technology to create those photos and videos." He could see frowns on their faces as he leapt to his feet and walked over to the desk where he picked up the family photo that resided there. "I don't know that you've done that. But I don't KNOW that you haven't. Every day I've got to face these doubts and tell myself that they are groundless."

"Virgi…" Scott started, but Virgil continued on as if he hadn't heard him.

"You've told me what International Rescue does, what its goals are, but it's only what you've told me. You go off on a rescue and the only evidence I've got that it was a genuine rescue were your radio reports. How do I know you weren't working off a script?"

"I guarantee that we weren't," Jeff said calmly.

"I've got this nagging sensation that something's wrong and I can't shake it. It's probably only that my head is crazy, but that feeling is there…"

"You're not crazy, Virgil…" Jeff tried to say.

"I can't trust what I've been told to remember. No matter how much I want to, no matter how much faith I want to put into what I've been told. I don't KNOW!" Virgil made a decision. "I didn't know until now! Until this morning! Now I know the truth! You've been lying to me!" He slammed the photo, face down, back onto the desk.

There was the sound of breaking glass.

"We haven't lied to you!" Scott protested. "Gordon didn't mean it the way it sounded!"

"Why didn't you stop him then, if it's not true?" Virgil asked.

"Because it's easier to agree with him than start an argument when he's that tired," Scott told him.

"Even if he might be overheard?"

"It was five o-clock in the morning. You were supposed to be in bed!"

"In bed, ignorant of the truth."

"Virgil! We have told you the truth!" Scott exclaimed.

"You don't want me to know what's really happening, do you! What would I have learnt if Gordon hadn't seen me?"

"Probably nothing. There was nothing to learn. And I would have convinced Gordon to go back to bed."

"We've told you the truth all along, Virgil," Jeff reiterated.

"I don't believe you..." Virgil looked him in the eye. "And I don't believe that you are my father."

"What!" For the first time there was a sign that Jeff was struggling to maintain his composure.

"I don't believe you," Virgil repeated. "I don't believe that you are who you say you are. I don't believe you are what you say you are!"

"But we've told you the truth," Scott protested.

"That you're my family? I don't believe that," Virgil reiterated.

"Why?" Jeff asked.

"Why? You're too perfect. A loving, caring, selfless family… But the cracks are starting to show."

"Cracks?" Jeff repeated.

"Yeah," Virgil said animatedly. "Cracks. I mean, look at you all. Living out here, alone, on an island in the middle of the ocean. And yet you try to tell me you care about people!"

"We can't live anywhere near populated areas," Scott started to say. "We'd…"

"Break your cover. So I keep on hearing," Virgil snapped.

"What other cracks are there?" Jeff asked.

"You're supposed to be this super rich billionaire, living on your 'tropical paradise' with your five sons. And yet you've only got one servant…"

"Kyrano's hardly a servant," Scott interrupted.

"Exactly!"

"I haven't always been rich," Jeff told him. "I brought you boys up to help around the house. You still do. Just because I've money now there's no reason to change the habits of a lifetime. It's helped keep us a close family…"

"So close that you'll send one of your sons into space, alone, for a month at a time!"

"We've explained why!" Jeff said.

"For 'International Rescue'. So that he can listen in on every person in the planet. Is that what International Rescue is? Some kind of spy outfit?"

"No," Scott protested.

"Some kind of illegal operation?"

"No," Scott repeated, struggling to stop himself from yelling.

"Is that the plan? Were John and Alan like me once? Have you brainwashed them into taking on that role? Were you going to brainwash me too?"

"No," Jeff tried to remain calm. Any other emotion wouldn't help at this point.

"Why would we do that?" Scott asked. "What is International Rescue for if it's not to help people in emergencies?"

"You tell me!"

"I can't because there's no other reason. International Rescue exists solely to help people. You can't hide from that fact," Scott explained.

"Just like Gordon was hiding from me yesterday!"

"He was what?" Jeff asked. "I didn't know this," he looked at Scott.

Scott shrugged in bewilderment. "This is news to me too. How'd you find this out? Gordon didn't say that this morning."

"Alan told me," Virgil said stubbornly.

"Alan," Scott sighed. "Figures. The kid can't keep his trap shut when it matters. When did he say this?"

"Right after he told me to keep my hands off Tin-Tin. I haven't been near her! I wouldn't touch her! I only wanted to draw her!"

There was a collective "ah," of understanding from Scott and Jeff.

"Is that all you can say? I was threatened! Alan threatened me…"

"I've spoken to him about that…" Jeff started to say.

But Virgil was continuing on. "Also, if you really cared about me, you would have got me proper medical treatment…"

"We have, Virgil," Jeff tried to tell him.

"Really? What?" Virgil asked sarcastically. "A doctor in a hospital made out of a tent! And since then an Engineer with a 'medical degree', who puts these things on my head with lots of wires and pretty flashing lights that do absolutely nothing! Come on! I might be as good as born yesterday, but I'm not stupid. Couldn't you have got someone more believable and less of a stereotype?"

"Brains is a genius. He's got multiple degrees. He can't help what he looks and sounds like. He's been doing his best for you…" Scott said.

"And 'Grandma'!" ignoring him, Virgil mimed the quotation marks. "She backs away as soon as she sees me. If her apron so much as brushes against me she's apologising as if it's a capital offence…"

"She doesn't want…" Scott began.

"And you!" Virgil pointed at Scott. "All you do is spend your day in the gym. What are you trying to do? Prove that you're some kind of brain dead muscle man?"

"Hey…" Scott leant forward to protest.

"What is your role in International Rescue? Are you the enforcer, to make sure none of your 'brothers' step out of line? Is it your job to intimidate everyone? Because I'll tell you 'pal', you don't intimidate me!"

"I don't try to…"

"And when you're not in the gym, you're avoiding me! Everyone tells me that we used to be 'so close'. That's a laugh. You don't want to talk to me!"

"Because I don't want to upset you!"

"Upset me? You've never given me the chance to get upset!"

"I thought you didn't like me!"

"And you wondered why? How could I like you when I didn't know you! You haven't exactly been helping me!"

"Don't blame me for this!" for a moment Scott lost his temper. Then he brought it back under control knowing that anger would only aggravate the situation. "I thought you wouldn't want to be near me! Every time I'd go near you I'd cause some kind of adverse reaction…!"

"That wasn't your fault! If you'd taken the time to ask me I would have told you that! You never gave me a chance to get to know you! Even when I tried!"

"You tried? When…?"

"Several times! And every time you'd make an excuse and run away."

"Run away…" Scott stared at Virgil and then flopped back in defeat. "I'm an idiot," he said quietly.

Virgil had finished with him. He rounded on Jeff. "And you! You've made it clear that you don't want me about! You no sooner start tutoring me when you've got to do something else!"

"I'm sorry, Virgil… I've been busy…" Jeff tried, and failed, to excuse his behaviour.

"Busy! You spend all day behind your desk, lording over everyone as if nothing's wrong. And something IS wrong! Something is definitely wrong. Your plan, whatever it is, has gone wrong."

Jeff could sense that the situation was slipping way beyond his grasp.

"So!" Virgil continued on. "In short! According to what you've told me I've got a brother who spends most of his time alone in outer space – spying on everyone on the planet. One who thinks I'm hitting on his girlfriend. One who's hiding from me when he's not saying things he doesn't mean about me, and one who avoids me at every opportunity. On top of that we've got an Engineer who's a part time doctor, a servant who's not a servant, a grandmother who's scared to go near me, and a father who cares only about his work!" He folded his arms firmly. "What a close family we are," he said his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Scott looked at his father. "You know, put that way I've got to agree with him. Even I wouldn't trust us." He turned back to Virgil. "What about Tin-Tin?"

"I hate to think of her involved in your schemes, but I guess she must be. What is she? Camouflage?"

"She's our friend." Scott explained. "She's like a sister to us all – and that includes you, Virgil… Calm down. You know why we're behaving the way we have been. We don't know how to behave around you, how you're going to react…"

"So all this is my fault is it?"

"No, but you're the cause. Now calm down and get a grip on yourself…"

"A grip on myself! Let me tell you, 'Scott'. You've lost your grip on me! Whatever you wanted me for, you're not going to get it! I want off this island and I want it now!"

"We can't now, Virgil," Jeff tried to sound calm. "We've got to make arrangements first…"

"NOW!" Virgil slammed his fist down on the desk. The damaged photo jangled unnervingly.

"Virgil…" Scott began. "You must be hungry. Let's have something to eat and then we can discuss this more rationally."

"Something to eat!" A thought occurred to Virgil. "I'll bet you're tampering with my food. I'll bet that's what's causing my amnesia! Well in that case I'm not eating another thing. Not until I'm as far away from 'Tracy Island' as it's possible to get."

"Virgil!" Scott protested. "You can't starve yourself."

"I won't be starving MYSELF." Virgil leant on the desk and stared Jeff Tracy in the eye."It's your decision whether or not I eat. If you 'care' for me as you say you do, you'll do everything in your power to take me somewhere safe today. Get me off this island and I'll enjoy a good meal." He lowered his voice dangerously. "Do you understand me?" 

Jeff schooled his face into a neutral expression. He returned his son's gaze impassively. "I understand, Virgil. If you want to leave home I'll make the arrangements for as soon as poss…"

"NOW!" Virgil repeated. "And I'm not having anything to do with any of you again."

"Virgil…" Scott tried again.

Virgil swung back to Scott. "None of you! And you can tell Gordon thanks for nothing!" He stormed out of the room.

Scott stared after him. When he looked back at Jeff, his father was entering something into the desktop computer. "Well?"

Jeff watched a blip go down the hall on the computer's map, and turn into a room. "He's gone back to his bedroom and locked the door," he said quietly.

"Now what do we do?" Scott asked. "Do we let him go? And if we do, where to? How can we convince him that we're telling him the truth…?" He looked closely at his father; despair turning to anxiety. "Are you alright?" he stood and quickly went to Jeff's side.

Jeff was pale. "To think that my son has doubts about the authenticity of his own family…" he placed his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands. "I feel sick."

"Do you want some water?" Scott didn't wait for an answer, and soon returned carrying a tumbler of clear liquid. "How's that? Can I get you anything else?"

"Just give me a moment, Scott. I'll be alright." Jeff took the tumbler. The water sloshed out of the glass. "Look at me. I'm shaking like a leaf!" He managed to sip a mouthful before he placed the tumbler on a coaster on his desk.

"Do you want me to get Brains?"

Jeff shook his head. "No." He picked up the family photo. It's glass was shattered; a star of broken shards radiating out from Virgil's face.

"You bottle things up too much," Scott opined. "It worries me sometimes…"

"Don't worry. I have my outlets." Jeff carefully placed the damaged photo back in its place on his desk and looked at his eldest. "What do we do now, Scott? How can we convince him we are who we say we are?"

Scott settled on the edge of the desk and looked down on his father. "If he could see you like this, he'd know," he said in concern.

"We can't give him what he wants. He doesn't know what it is himself."

Scott gave his father a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. "I hate to say this about my brother, but he's a fool."

"No, he's not, Scott. He's frightened. I thought he was getting over that, but obviously he isn't, and what's happened over the last few days hasn't helped."

"Alan!" Scott growled. "I'd like to get my hands on him and…"

"It's not only Alan," his father interrupted. "John was right. We're each as much to blame for this as anyone else in the family. We've all behaved foolishly." Jeff started punching keys on the videophone.

"What are you doing?" Scott asked.

"Password protecting the 'phone," Jeff said briefly and wrote the word 'Kansas' on a piece of paper before sticking it to the face of the phone. "I'll do it to all the 'phones. Make sure everyone knows will you?"

"Why? You don't think Virgil would try to ring anyone do you? Who would he ring? He certainly can't look up any 'phone numbers. Do you think he even knows how a 'phone works? You're getting paranoid, Father."

"He's desperate, frightened, and confused, and we both know that when a man is like that he can behave in uncharacteristic ways." Jeff concentrated on the videophone.

Realisation dawned. "He's already tried, hasn't he? That's why you're worried."

Jeff looked up at his son. "I promised him I wouldn't discuss it with anyone. I'm not about to break that promise, Scott. I've got to win his confidence back somehow. So you're not to say anything… to anyone!"

"He says he's not talking to us anyway." Scott groaned, rubbing his face with both hands and then pushing them through his hair. "What do we do?"

Jeff raised his own hands in defeat. "I don't know. Penny's somewhere in the Mediterranean at the moment and I don't know who else I'd be willing to trust. The mood Virgil's in, he'd be likely to talk about International Rescue to the first person he meets."

"Do you think he's serious… about not eating?"

"Do you?" Jeff asked.

"Yes," Scott grimaced. Then he slapped his thighs decisively and stood. "Right! I'm going to do something! I'm not going to let him starve himself."

"What," Jeff asked warily.

Scott was heading towards the door. "I'm going to convince him that it's safe to eat… One way or another."

"Scott," Jeff warned.

"If he thought I was intimidating before, he ain't seen nothin' yet."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"If I knew what I was doing I would have done it weeks ago. If it goes wrong I'll pay the psychiatrist bills... for both of us. I've got preparations to make. I'll see you later."

The door closed behind him.

Jeff sat in silence for a moment. Then he unlocked a drawer and removed a folder. He stared at it briefly before forcing himself to open it.

He tried to read the first page.

He slammed the folder shut.

"I hope your plan works, Scott."


	19. Nineteen

** Nineteen**

Virgil slammed his way into the bedroom and locked the door behind him. Rage coursed through his system, not allowing him to think clearly. He'd show them! He'd get the yacht and leave this place. He'd break into the boat shed somehow and steal it! He was supposed to be an engineer. Surely he could work out how to operate a boat!

Then he thought about the view of Tracy Island he'd seen from space. If he were to get a boat where would he go? Miles and miles of ocean to choose from and he had no idea where the nearest bit of inhabited land was. Probably 'International Rescue' would catch him before he got too far away.

On automatic pilot he went to an unidentified box on a table and punched in a code before throwing himself onto the bed. Music filled the room.

Only then did he start to think about what he'd done.

He sat up and looked at the electronic device. How did he know how to operate it? How'd he know that that particular key combination would unleash that particular tune?

For the first time since he'd stormed out of Jeff's study Virgil felt a pang of doubt.

He sat back, trying to analyse what had happened a few moments earlier. He'd got angry, really angry, and anger had told him that these people weren't who they said they were. Did he believe that?

No.

Did he believe that they were his family?

No.

Did he have any real evidence either way?

No.

Did he want to back down?

…

No.

He wanted conclusive proof. He wanted someone give him evidence that would prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was a member of this family. He needed that reassurance.

Virgil cast his eyes about the room. Up till now he hadn't had a really good look around. The feeling that he hadn't belonged had made him believe that he would have been intruding into someone else's possessions.

Virgil made the decision that now was the time to examine this room thoroughly.

If nothing else it would take his mind off his complaining stomach.

A few hours later and he had finished the search of the bedroom. He'd found nothing that had satisfied his need for conclusive proof.

He went into the bathroom and had a drink of water. It was a chance to collect his thoughts.

What was he looking for? He didn't know.

Would he know it if he found it? He didn't know that either.

What would he do if he found some evidence?

He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Virgil rinsed out the glass, replaced it on the bathroom unit and returned to the bedroom.

As he did so he heard a voice call to him from outside the door to the room. It was Tin-Tin and he tried not to listen as she pleaded for him to come out and join them for a meal. He ignored her offer to leave food outside his door. He couldn't bring himself to trust them, not after what he'd heard this morning.

He backed into the studio to get as far away from her voice as he could, plugging his ears with his fingers. Eventually she was silent.

He stood for a moment and looked about him. The toy engineering set was still on the floor, a nearly completed machine standing in the middle of the remaining components.

He ignored it and started examining the room.

* * *

Gordon finally awoke and went in search of his family. He found John in the lounge. "Hiya."

"Gordon? I thought you wouldn't surface until tomorrow!" John exclaimed. "How are you feeling now?"

"Okay I guess. How's Virgil?"

It took John a while to answer. "Things have kind of gone pear shaped," he eventually said.

Gordon looked alarmed. "What do you mean?"

"He's said that he doesn't believe that we're his family and is insisting that we let him move away."

"Move away! Where to?"

"I don't know. Scott's going to try to change his mind or something."

"How?"

"He's been muttering about making plans, and talking with Grandma, but he hasn't let anyone else in on his scheme."

"But Virgil can't leave! He's a part of our family! He's our brother!" Gordon slumped into a chair. "This is all my fault isn't it?"

"No it's not," their father's voice came from behind them. "This is something that's been brewing since the accident."

"Yes," John agreed. "Don't blame yourself, Gordon."

"But if I hadn't said those things! I didn't mean them, Dad! Honest!"

"I know. I've had a talk with Scott and Virgil and I know what happened. Unfortunately Virgil interpreted what you said incorrectly, and we haven't been able to convince him otherwise."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"It's not your fault, Gordon. We won't panic yet. We'll give Scott a chance to do whatever he's got planned and then re-evaluate the situation tomorrow."

* * *

Virgil sat back on his heels and stared at the object in his hands. Was this the 'holy grail' he'd been seeking?

He carried it over to the light to examine it closer.

It was a drawing done in coloured pencils.

A drawing of Tin-Tin. There was an inscription on the back and Virgil could read and understand the words 'To Alan' and 'From Virgil'.

Virgil could see that the picture had been done in his style. More disturbing was the fact that it was almost exactly the drawing that he'd envisaged doing when he'd asked her to pose for him. He went back into the bedroom and got the sketchpad that he'd been using to make some rough drafts. He compared the two pictures. The angle of her head was the same. The way the light highlighted her hair was nearly identical. It was the same smile.

Coincidence?

Possibly.

So now what?

He sat in a seat that looked out over the pool and courtyard, but he wasn't looking at the view. He was comparing the two pictures.

Had he drawn that picture he'd just found?

Had someone else, copying his style?

These people were clever. They were clever enough to think of getting someone to draw a picture that could pass off as one he'd done himself and maybe slip it in amongst his things…

Virgil suddenly found that he was angry again. This time he wasn't angry with the Tracy family. He was angry with Virgil Tracy. Here he was, potentially with the evidence he'd been seeking, and he wasn't willing to let himself believe what he was seeing with his own eyes.

What was wrong with him!

Why didn't he want to be part of this family? They were wonderful people and he would be proud to be considered to be one of them. He admired their goals. He admired their skills.

So why couldn't he let himself believe?

He dropped the drawing back where he'd found it and took a step backwards. He trod on a piece of construction kit, bruising his foot. Anger boiled over again and, with a yell, he picked up his carefully crafted machine and threw it against the wall! It hit hard, scarring the wallpaper, and collapsed to the floor in a disjointed heap.

Virgil stormed back into the bedroom and fell onto the bed, grabbing the pillow and pulling it over his head as if he were trying to block out all the negative thoughts that were filling it.

There was a bang and the door to the hallway slid open uninvited.

Scott Tracy filled the doorway.

He could cut an imposing figure when he wanted, as could be testified by a number of subordinates, and he was using that ability to full advantage now. The figure-hugging top, which accentuated his muscular body, folded arms and scowl, all helped create the impression that he was here for a reason and nobody was going to divert him from his plan. The scratch on his face made it seem that the plan wasn't going to be a wholly savoury one.

Scott Tracy was a man on a mission.

Virgil looked at the interloper without enthusiasm, thinking that he was sure he'd locked that door and wondering what he'd done wrong in the process. "What do you want?"

"Are you joining us for dinner, Brother?"

Virgil's stomach was saying yes, but his mind told it to be quiet. "No."

"Fine," Scott stated and turned away.

Virgil relaxed.

His respite was only temporary for it appeared that Scott had anticipated a negative answer. He collected the card table from the hallway and set it up in the middle of the bedroom. Next appeared a piece of wood, which covered the surface of the table, forks, salt and pepper, mugs and a thermos flask. He disappeared into the hallway again.

Virgil was telling himself that he could hold his ground and stick to his plan of not eating anything now, but sneaking out after dark, when Scott reappeared.

Virgil's heart sank. Scott was carrying two bags, a pillow and sleeping bag. He removed Gordon's things and then tossed one bag and the sleeping gear onto the temporary cot. The other bag he placed carefully underneath. "I'm sleeping in here tonight."

"So I gathered."

"Any problems with that, Brother?"

"Would it make any difference if I did?" Virgil glared at the other man. "Do you think you going all G.I. Joe is going to have some affect on me?"

"G.I. Joe!" Scott said with affronted dignity. "Please! I was proud to serve in the Air Force."

"Lucky you," Virgil said sarcastically.

Scott bit back a reply and squared off so he was looking Virgil in the eye. "Look!" he said threateningly. "I'm warning you now. I can be your best friend, or your worst nightmare. I've always been your best friend but if you want a change…" he petered out dangerously. "It's your choice… Brother."

"Oh, so I have a choice, do I?" Virgil was wondering why he was still feeling antagonistic towards this man.

"Not if you keep that attitude."

"Fine," Virgil swung around so he was still sitting on his bed but his back was towards Scott and the dinner table, intending to ignore them both.

It was a resolution that was sorely tested when interesting sounds and tantalising smells started filling the room. Virgil turned back angrily. "Do you have to do that in here?"

Scott was stirring a pot of stew that was simmering on a small burner on the table. "No. But if you're not going to join us in the dining room, I intend to make sure that you eat something. I'm not having you waste away."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yeah, sure," Scott snarled. "You didn't have dinner last night and you haven't eaten all day. It's now dinnertime and I'll bet you're starving."

"I'm not eating anything. I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone on this island."

"We'll see." Scott ladled three big spoonfuls of stew onto a plate. He then reached into a bag and pulled out a long bread roll, which he broke in half.

Virgil's mouth watered as he saw the steam rise from the freshly baked loaf and smelt the irresistible smells of the meal. His resolution began to waver.

Then Scott picked up the plate, half the roll and a fork and settled down on his own bed. He began to eat.

Virgil watched him in amazement.

Scott enjoyed three forkfuls of stew, took a bite out his half of the roll and then looked at Virgil, chewing slowly. He swallowed. "If you're going to have anything you'd better get stuck in, Brother. I'm warning you that if you don't I'm going to get Brains. He has several interesting ways of force feeding people."

"Brains?" Virgil gave a bitter laugh. "I'm bigger than him. He wouldn't have a chance."

"And I'm bigger than you. And stronger. Do you think you could take me on? I'd be the one holding you down."

Virgil folded his arms petulantly. "Is this an example of how 'caring' this family is? So 'caring' that you'd threaten me?"

"It's because we care that we'd make sure that you didn't starve yourself to death."

"Am I to take it that this means that you're not going to let me escape this island?"

"Oh, you can go… if you wish. But it's not convenient yet…"

Virgil snorted.

"We want to make sure that you stay with someone who'll look after you properly. And until Father gets hold of Penny you're staying here."

"You calling that escaping? You people picking where I go and who I stay with?"

Scott looked at him. "And where were you planning on going?"

Virgil had no answer to that.

"What else were you planning to do? Take the boat and head out into the Pacific Ocean?"

A shiver went down Virgil's spine. How'd Scott guess?

"Penny lives in England. You couldn't get much further away from us than there. Now swallow your pride and eat." Scott resumed attacking his own meal.

Virgil thought for a moment. Why was he being stubborn over this? The reason why he wasn't eating was because he didn't trust what they were feeding him. Yet here was Scott hoeing into the food with impunity. Surely it wouldn't hurt…

Maybe he did trust them after all.

He picked up a plate and helped himself to some of the stew. Then he took the remaining half of the bread, a fork and retired to his own bed, making sure he was as far away from Scott as he could manage.

Scott hid his smile in a mouthful of bread roll and made no comment.

The meal was eaten in silence, broken only by the bubbling of the stew on the portable stove.

Scott helped himself to seconds, retrieving a second still warm roll from a bag. "There's more there if you want it, Brother."

Virgil looked at his empty plate. He could still taste the tender bits of meat, carrots, peas, onions…

He helped himself to seconds.

When they'd finished eating. Scott poured a couple of coffees out of the thermos and placed one on the table near Virgil. With no comment he returned to his cot and sat back to enjoy his own drink.

Virgil refrained from speaking himself and took up his mug...

* * *

Scott smiled at his family when he returned the meal things to the kitchen.

"Well?" his father asked and helped him with some of his paraphernalia.

Scott leant back against the kitchen counter and folded his arms. "Well he hasn't tried to kick me out, and he's had some of Grandma's stew. He enjoyed it so much he had seconds."

"That's no surprise," Gordon commented. "He loves her stew."

"Don't we all," Scott agreed.

"Has he said anything?" John asked.

"He looked pretty angry at first, but he seems to have calmed down. Initially he was still talking about leaving, but he hasn't said a lot since then."

"Do you think your plan's working?" Jeff asked.

"Well… Part one of the plan was to get him to eat something. Which I've done. Part two is to convince him to stay. If I'm lucky I'll also convince him that we are his family."

"Scott Tracy to the rescue again," Gordon stated. "If you can pull this off I'll take your place next time you're on Thunderbird Five duty."

Scott grinned and then rotated his shoulders uncomfortably. "I think I've put on weight. This shirt's a little tight."

John eyed him critically. "That's not fat, Scott, it's muscle. I warned you that if you spent too much time in the gym you'd give Thunderbird One a hernia."

Scott chuckled.

Jeff looked past them both. "Ah, Scott," he said quietly. "If you don't want Alan jealous of you as well as Virgil, it might pay to leave now."

"Huh?" naively Scott looked at his father and then back in the direction Jeff was looking.

Tin-Tin was staring at him. She started when she became aware that his gaze was on her and turned away, blushing furiously.

"Oh, heck," Scott muttered. "I'd better get back."

"I think that's a good idea," Jeff agreed.

Scott hurried out of the kitchen.

His grandmother sighed as she watched him leave. "Your father used to have a physique like that when he was Scott's age," she told Jeff. "All the girls in the town lusted after him, but he was mine…" She sighed again, gazing at the door through which Scott had just departed. "The things that body could do…"

"Mother!" Jeff exclaimed in horror.

She smiled girlishly at him. "It's alright, Jefferson. I'm thinking about your father, not your son."

* * *

Several hours had passed. Scott spent the time reading an aviation magazine and Virgil sat on his bed in a sullen silence, scowling at the other man who appeared to be blissfully unaware of the daggers that were being shot in his direction.

Eventually Scott looked at his watch. "Lights out in five minutes, Brother."

"What!"

"You heard me!"

"I thought this was supposed to be my room!"

"I thought you didn't believe that. I'm turning the lights out at twenty two hundred hours on the dot. You'd better be ready."

"In English?"

"Ten o-clock!" Scott said brusquely. "You've got four point six seven minutes now, Brother."

"Do you think that if you keep saying that I'll believe you?" Virgil asked petulantly.

"No. I'm saying it because it's the truth. You've got four point four eight minutes now… Brother."

Grumbling Virgil headed into the bathroom.

Scott grinned to himself…

…And turned the light out as promised, just as Virgil was re-entering the room. "Hey! I can't see."

He got no sympathy. "Go to bed!"

"How can I if I can't find my pyjamas."

"So they're your pyjamas now are they?"

Virgil was silent, but Scott could hear him stumbling about in the darkness. For his own part Scott didn't bother getting changed, contenting himself with removing his shoes and tight T-shirt. He climbed under the blankets on the cot and lay there listening to Virgil bump into something, curse mildly, and then manage to crawl into bed.

"Goodnight, Virgil," Scott said.

He had to admit to himself that he was disappointed when he didn't get a reply.

* * *

"Do you think this plan of Scott's is working?" Gordon asked.

"If anyone can get through to Virgil it's Scott," John said confidently.

"Good. 'Cause it'd be nice to have a complete night's sleep," Gordon noted.

"If you go to bed now, you'll be able to sleep for longer," his father told him.

"I don't want to go to bed. I want Scott to come out and tell me that everything's okay."

"Go to bed, Gordon," Jeff ordered.

"Aren't I a little old to be told to go to bed by my father?" Gordon asked.

Jeff Tracy gave him a look.

"I'm old enough to make up my own mind," Gordon stated and stood. "Night everyone."

He received a chorus of "Night, Gordon," as he traipsed out of the lounge…


	20. Twenty

** Twenty**

Scott lay in his cot, listening to every sound that was coming from the other bed. Eventually he heard his brother's breathing settle into the rhythmical pattern of sleep. It was only then that he allowed himself to relax enough to doze for a short time.

Several times during the night he awoke and listened for any sign of restlessness.

There were none.

Eventually he checked his watch. One am. Nearly the time when Gordon had said Virgil's nightmares had tended to begin. Scott lay quietly and listened.

He was therefore awake when he heard the first signs of distress. He climbed out of his cot and padded softly to his brothers bedside. "Virgil?" he whispered. "It's okay."

Virgil stirred in his sleep, turning his face to the voice. A shaft of moonlight fell across his face, casting into sharp relief the expression of torment on it. "Scotty?" he whimpered. He held out a hand in the pathetic gesture of a small child.

Scott had a warm feeling of déjà vu as he took the hand and rubbed it reassuringly. "It's okay, Virgie. Scotty's here… I'll look after you. I always have haven't I?"

"Make the monster go away, Scotty…"

"I will."

"Help me."

"I will help you," Scott repeated. "But you've got to help me. You've got to come back to us, Virgil."

Virgil's eyelids flickered and Scott laid his hand back under the bedclothes before backing up so he was sitting on the floor and his back was against the cot. It was the most unthreatening position he could find.

Virgil awoke slowly. "Scott?" he said thickly.

"I'm here," Scott said gently.

"I think I remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"Everything."

Scott fought an impulse to become excited. He forced himself to remain calm and quiet. "Do you still remember?"

"No," Virgil said sadly. "It was like a dream." Scott could hear a tremor in his voice, but refrained from commenting.

He gave his brother time to collect himself.

Eventually Virgil sat up and turned the light on. He pulled a pillow out from behind his head and hugged it close.

Scott noticed that his eyes were red. "Are you okay?"

Virgil answered the question with a question. "Why do I have to live in this nightmare?"

"I don't know, Virgil. If I did perhaps I could help you 'wake up' from it."

"Why did this have to happen to me?" Virgil suddenly cried out in frustration. "I feel like a child. Here I am… You tell me I'm supposed to be a member of your family, have a responsible job, be able to do these fantastic things, and yet I can't do anything, I don't know anything, I don't remember anything…" his voice cracked and he fought back tears.

"I wish I could say something to help." Scott averted his gaze by retrieving the bag from under his cot. "Maybe this'll go someway towards making you feel better. He pulled out a vacuum flask and two mugs. He placed the mugs on the table and filled them up with hot chocolate. "Whenever our father was away looking for work, after Ma died," he explained, "you'd get nightmares. The only thing that would calm you down would be Grandma's hot chocolate with marshmallows." He plopped a couple into each of their mugs. "And then…" he grinned and removed another bag from the pack, "I'd add my own secret ingredients." He dropped four tablet sized brown disks into each mug.

"What are they?" Virgil asked warily.

"Chocolate buttons," Scott held a drink out to his brother.

Virgil took it and eyed the mug as if it might explode. "How could anyone sleep with that much sugar in their system?"

Scott picked up his own drink and retired to the cot, sitting with his back against the wall. "We didn't. We'd spend the rest of the night talking. Kept John awake, but he didn't mind. It gave him an excuse to read his books."

Virgil savoured the rich chocolatey smell of the liquid. "It was you who left the drink that first night, wasn't it."

"Uh, huh," Scott agreed.

"What did you talk about? When Fa… When he was away."

Scott thought about the answer. "What we wanted to be when we grew up. I always wanted to be a pilot. You kept changing your mind. One minute you were going to be a fireman, then a concert pianist, then a mechanic, or a great artist."

"Is that all?"

"No… We'd talk about Father, how we could help him. Wondering what job he'd eventually get. We'd talk about Ma. I don't mind admitting to you that initially we all shed a few tears. I think it helped us get over her death and in the long run we became stronger."

"We must have talked about more than that."

Scott noticed the unguarded 'we' slip into Virgil's conversation. "We did, but I can't remember what. I know that we did talk about what your nightmares were about."

"And what were they?"

Scott decided to try something. "Monsters."

"Monsters?"

Scott nodded. "Monsters. You were always having dreams where monsters were taking away a family member. Usually Father."

Virgil sipped at his hot chocolate.

Scott sampled his own. "Maybe that's what you've been dreaming about this last month," he eventually said.

"No…" Virgil stared into the brown liquid. "I know what I was dreaming now."

Scott looked up in interest. "What?"

"A pair of hands… Skeletal hands are reaching out for me… A skull is screaming at me."

"Sounds horrible."

"It's wearing a white dress."

"What?"

"It's wearing a white dress," Virgil repeated.

"Your monster is wearing a white dress as it grabs at you?"

"Yes… No… It's not grabbing at me," Virgil reached out, then turned his hand so his palm was facing upwards. "It's begging me for help. We're both falling."

"Do you think it's been the same dream every night?" Scott asked.

Virgil cupped the hot mug tightly in both hands. "I think so."

"I wonder what it means," Scott said reflectively.

"It means I don't get a good nights sleep," Virgil said irritably. "And neither does anyone else."

"Well Gordon should tonight," Scott sipped at his hot chocolate and then looked ashamedly at his brother. "I'm sorry, Virgil."

"Sorry for what?"

"I haven't been much help to you over the last month. It seemed that every time I tried to get close something bad would happen. I kept thinking there must be something wrong with me."

Virgil shook his head. "No, not you. There's something wrong with me." He sighed and wiped his eyes.

"What you need is some soothing music," Scott stated firmly. "That always makes you feel better. Why don't you turn your stereo on?"

"Stereo?"

"Yeah. That thing," Scott pointed at the electronic device.

"Oh, is that what that is? I wondered."

"You mean Gordon didn't show you?" Scott shook his head in exasperation. "Would you like me to?"

"Please," Virgil said eagerly.

Scott shifted his position so he was able to reach the stereo. "You turn it on by pushing this button," Scott pressed it and the stereo lit up like a Christmas tree. "Initially you'll probably find the radio easier to handle, but the tunes you've got loaded are listed in the database…" The system's computer sprang into life and Scott scanned through the long list of music. "How on earth have you stored everything? I can't see any logic to this – but I guess you did." He thought for a moment. "How would you store your music, Virgil?"

Virgil found himself being stared at by a pair of piercing blue eyes.

Scott smiled slowly. "Of course." He punched in a series of numbers and a gentle piece of music wafted out the speakers. "There you go. Have a lie down and a listen. You'll soon feel better."

"Thank you." Virgil didn't accept the invitation to lie down but instead rested his head against the headboard and closed his eyes.

Scott watched the lines of worry and fear fade away from his brother's face and enjoyed the moment.

When the music finished Virgil opened his eyes again.

"Better?" Scott asked.

Virgil nodded. "Yes."

"Glad to see I haven't lost my touch," Scott said a trifle smugly. "Gordon's right. I do know what makes you tick."

"Do you?" Virgil looked at Scott. "I think you do. I think you understand me, more than I understand myself at the moment. That…" he hesitated, "that 'G.I. Joe' act…

"Air Force," Scott corrected.

"…Was only an act wasn't it?"

Scott gave a shy grin and nodded. "Yeah, it was an act. I wasn't about to let you go hungry. I gambled that I did know you well enough to know how to get you to eat. Thanks for proving me right."

Virgil attempted to say something and stopped himself twice before steeling himself for the third attempt. "Can I tell you something, Scott?"

"Shoot."

"I want to believe that you are my family. I like you all, and I like the idea of you being my family… But I don't seem to be able to believe. Even when things happen that only make sense if I tell myself that they happen because I knew that they were going to happen.

Scott tried to make sense of this statement. "Such as?"

"Such as… I came in here after our 'discussion' this morning, and I was so mad I automatically turned the… stereo on. And what's more I selected the piece of music that I wanted to hear. How'd I do that? How did I know?"

"You knew because you've always known. Because the stereo is yours. That's probably why Gordon's never shown you how it operates, because he doesn't know. He was probably going to ask me to show you… but I was too busy running scared."

"But why can't I believe that that stereo is mine?" Virgil asked. He shifted position so he was now on his knees. "Please tell me something that will make me believe!" he begged. "I can't bear not having faith in what you all tell me!"

"Virgil…" Scott leant forward. "I wish I could. Believe me I've been trying to think of something for ages that will help you believe, but I can't. The only things I can think of are related to memories that you won't know. For instance, I could tell you that you got that scar on your forehead from when you were shot down by the USN Sentinel…"

"I was what!"

"I think the Captain thought Thunderbird Two was a missile heading for the States or something…"

"See, that doesn't help. From my point of view that sounds suspicious. Why would someone shoot down an International Rescue craft if International Rescue is as innocent as you say?"

"But to think that you'd have to believe that you were on board that craft!"

Virgil shook his head. "No. To think that I'd only have to believe that it's a story that you've concocted or had happened to someone else and you've made into my history. So I've got a scar…"

"Virgil!" Scott said in mild irritation. "You've got to meet me halfway here."

"I'm trying! I feel as if there's a brick wall between us and I can't scale it. A brick wall called amnesia!" Virgil sat back and pounded his pillow to relieve his feelings of frustration.

Scott watched him helplessly. Then something happened that lifted his spirits. "Got it! You're going to sneeze three times."

Virgil stared at him. "What?" He sneezed.

"That's one."

"Why'd you say I was going to sneeze…?" Virgil sneezed a second time, "… and why three times?"

"Two!" Scott was grinning. "Because you always rub your nose that way before you sneeze and you always sneeze…" He was interrupted by the third sneeze. "Three!" he cheered. "You always sneeze three times!"

Virgil sniffed. "I do?"

"Yep! And I'll tell you something else. You always sneeze when you go out of a dark room into sunlight. Brains said it's a medically recognised phenomena and has a medical term for it, but I can't remember what it is."

"Autosomal Dominant Compelling Helio-Ophthalmic Outburst," Virgil stated.

"That's right! Adchoo!" Scott exclaimed. Then he stared at his brother. "How'd you remember that?"

Virgil shrugged. "Dunno." Then he frowned "How'd you know I did that? You've hardly been around…"

Scott looked meaningfully at him.

It was as if a light bulb had suddenly been illuminated, except that Virgil didn't sneeze in the glare. "You are my brother," he exclaimed as if he'd only just worked it out.

"Halleluiah," Scott said. "Do you believe us now?"

Virgil nodded, his eyes wide with the sudden revelation. "I do believe you. Don't ask me why a sneeze was the only thing that could convince me, but I do believe you."

"Sounds like you sneezed down that brick wall."

"Well, I've blown a hole in it. It's still there, stopping me from remembering everything, but…" Virgil smiled, "at least I've got some certainty at last. What a relief."

"Tell me about it," Scott agreed. "Do you feel up to rejoining the family fold in the morning?"

Virgil nodded. "That's if they'll accept me after what I said about them."

Scott waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that. They'll be so pleased that you believe them that they'll forgive you anything."

Virgil frowned. "Even Gordon? He didn't sound ready to forgive me yesterday, he sounded like he wanted to get rid of me."

"Gordon was tired," Scott told him. "When he gets that tired his mouth kind of disengages from his brain. He says things he doesn't mean and then usually can't remember what he said the following day."

"Something we have in common then," Virgil said.

"He's feeling terrible and is blaming himself for you running away."

"Oh," Virgil said quietly. "It wasn't really his fault. It was my crazy head to blame."

"You're not crazy," Scott told him. "But next time you decide you need to escape, choose somewhere a little less dangerous, will you? You nearly gave me heart failure yesterday…" He placed his mug on the floor. "Tell you what. How about I take you on a tour of the island later today? I'll show you the places to steer clear of if you feel the need escape again."

"I hope I won't feel the need to escape again."

"So do I. But it'll give us a chance to get to know each other… That's if you want to," Scott looked at his brother hopefully.

"I upset you and Gordon, didn't I? I'm sorry." Virgil sounded despondent.

"It wasn't your fault."

Virgil wondered how many times he was going to have to repeat these words before he would no longer feel the compulsion to do so. "No, but I was the cause, wasn't I.?"

"You know, that is one thing, the only thing, that everyone is finding irritating. No one blames you for your amnesia or things that happen because of it. You don't need to apologise."

"Sorry," Virgil said, his eyes downcast.

Scott ignored the apology.

"I guess this has been as hard for you as it has for me... but in a different way," Virgil said.

"It's been hard for everyone," Scott told him. "Normally we pull together and support each other. That's how we cope in difficult situations. But this time…" he shrugged, "well, this time we've been pulling back from each other, and worse, we've been pulling away from you when you've needed our support more than anything. It's us who should be apologising to you, Virgil."

"No," Virgil shook his head. He still looked depressed.

"So… Do you want to go for that walk today?" Scott half expected Virgil to decline the invitation.

Instead Virgil's face lit up in a smile. "I like that."

"Great!" Scott beamed. "I guess we should get some shuteye then."

Virgil indicated his empty mug regretfully. "I don't feel tired now."

"No," Scott admitted. "Neither do I. Oh well, in that case…" he reached into his bag and pulled out the vacuum flask again, "…we may as well finish this off." He poured them each another drink and then tossed the bags of marshmallows and chocolate buttons to Virgil to take care of while he continued to rummage about in his pack. "Here," he said pulling several boxes out, "when we got sick of talking we'd play games." He balanced the boxes on the edge of the table as he returned the flask to the bag.

Virgil allocated each mug it's requirement of sweets and then picked up the top game. "I remember this one!"

"You remember…! But you never liked that game," Scott took the box from Virgil and looked at it. "I always beat you," he said with a mischievous grin on his face.

"Probably why I didn't like playing it," Virgil told him.

"Can you remember how to play it?" Scott asked.

"I don't know. Shall we try and find out?"

Two hours later and they were both still wide awake, playing games, laughing and, most importantly…

Enjoying each other's company.


	21. Twenty One

** Twenty One**

Gordon bounced into the kitchen the following morning. "Mornin' all!" he said with gusto.

"Good morning, Dear," his grandmother gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Mmmn. Anything!" he told her. "I could eat a horse, or, failing that, a barrel full of seahorses."

"I can't oblige you with seahorses," she informed him. "Would you be willing to make do with banana, bacon, and cream cheese on hotcakes?"

"And maple syrup?"

"Of course."

"Grandma! I love you!" Gordon gave her a big bear hug.

"Would you like a coffee, Mister Gordon?" Kyrano asked.

"I'd love one."

"How are you feeling, Gordon?" his father asked.

"Fighting fit," Gordon told him and started shadow boxing around his grandmother.

She turned and waved a spoon at him. "Go and sit down, Gordon. If you spill this batter you won't be getting any hotcakes!"

Gordon hightailed it to the table.

"I take it you had a good night's sleep," John said. "You did, didn't you?"

"If I say no will I still get hotcakes?" Gordon pulled his chair out from the table.

"You'll get dry toast," John told him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great. Honestly I haven't had such a good nights sleep in a long time," Gordon admitted. "I don't know what Scott did to Virgil but it worked. Either that or Brains drugged my drink last night."

Brains gave him a shy smile and shook his head.

"I woke up at one point and heard them both laughing," John said. "So I guess things were going well."

"At what time?" Gordon asked.

"I don't know. I didn't look at the clock."

"Mister Scott is up late this morning," Kyrano noted.

"He is," Jeff agreed. "We haven't seen hide nor hair of either of them. But we haven't heard them either, so we'll take that as a good sign."

"It's either a good sign or Virgil's murdered Scott in his sleep and then run away again," Gordon said brightly.

A cheerful whistling was heard in the hallway.

"I guess not," Gordon amended.

Scott strode into the room. He'd retrieved his dressing gown and was wearing it over what he'd worn to bed. "Good Morning!"

"You sound in high spirits," Jeff smiled. "I take it things went well."

"Yup." Scott started pouring his ritual cup of coffee.

Tin-Tin entered the room. She saw Scott, dressed in his concealing dressing gown, and looked slightly disappointed.

Scott grinned. "Hey, Tin-Tin. What say you and I give Alan something to be jealous about?" He winked at her.

Kyrano smiled benignly.

She stared at him, then giggled and gave him playful shove. "Oh, Scott!"

He gave a dramatic sigh. "I don't know. It's terrible this power I have over women. They can't keep their hands off me."

John snorted "Yeah. Only when they're pushing you away. Where's Virgil?"

"Getting washed."

"So…" Jeff said. "Don't keep us in suspense. What happened?"

Scott claimed his chair at the table. "I gave him the 'bad cop' treatment and turned the lights out at ten," he explained. "Then I waited. It was just like when he used to get those nightmares when Father was away. Remember, Grandma?"

"What!" Jeff exclaimed. He looked at his mother who smiled serenely back.

"I remember," she said.

"I don't!" Jeff said.

"Didn't you ever tell him?" Scott asked Mrs Tracy.

"No. I thought your father had enough worries finding work, without worrying unnecessarily about you boys as well," she admitted. "I figured what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him and that, between you and I, we could handle anything."

Jeff frowned at her and made the decision to discover what else he hadn't been told about later.

"So, what happened?" John asked.

"Then I gave him the 'good cop' treatment. And, I am pleased to report, that not only did I convince him to eat; not only did I convince him that we weren't intent on world domination, or what ever it was he thought we were capable of; not only did I find out what Virgil's nightmare is…"

"Yes…?" Gordon sat forward.

"I've convinced him that we are his family!" Scott finished triumphantly. He gave them some of the highlights of the night's events.

Tin-Tin clapped her hands together. "Oh! That's wonderful!"

"You da man," Gordon crowed and gave Scott a high five.

"Nice one," John added his congratulations. "I told you, you should have been more involved all along."

"Just for that I'll cook you some extra hotcakes, Scott," his Grandma offered.

"And does he still believe that? Now that it's morning?" Jeff asked with caution.

"Yep," Scott reassured him and his father allowed himself a smile in relief. "And we were getting along like a house on fire. I'm going to take him on a tour of some of the places that Gordon hasn't shown him after breakfast."

"Speaking of Gordon," Gordon stood. "If you'll all excuse me, I think I'll go and apologise to Virgil personally. I need to do some serious grovelling." He paused at the kitchen counter on the way out. "Don't let Scott eat all the hotcakes, Grandma."

"I won't, Darling, I'm making enough for everyone. And tell Virgil to hurry up or his will be cold."

"What was this nightmare about?" Jeff asked.

"Would you believe that he is falling beside a skeleton, which is wearing a white dress and is pleading for his help?"

The family all looked at each other. "That's all?" John asked.

"That's all he remembered."

"It doesn't sound like something Virgil would normally be afraid of," Tin-Tin noted.

"Nothing's normal at the moment as far as Virgil's concerned," Jeff reminded her.

Brains was frowning. "I-Interesting. The skeleton is a negative symbol, f-frequently associated with death. But w-why is it wearing a white dress?"

"That's what I asked him," Scott replied. "He didn't know."

"D-Dreams are sometimes an expression of the s-subconscious," Brains said with a meditative air.

"So what's he subconsciously thinking about then?" John asked. "Maybe if we knew we could find a cure for the amnesia."

Brains didn't appear to hear him as he gazed thoughtfully into space.

Scott turned when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Gordon was standing there. In contrast to his earlier jovial mood, he now looked deadly serious. "Where'd you say Virgil was?"

"In his bathroom getting washed."

Gordon shook his head. "He's not there now. I checked his bedroom, bathroom, studio and the lounge. No sign of him."

"What!" Scott was on his feet. "But I told him I'd meet him here!"

"Now calm down, Scott," Jeff tried to be reassuring. "He might be embarrassed about what he said yesterday. We'll just have to tell him that it doesn't matter and that we understand."

"That's when we find him!" John exclaimed.

"I'll soon track him on the computer!" Jeff stood. "There's no need to panic."

They all made a panicked beeline for the door.

They stopped abruptly when a figure stepped into the kitchen.

Virgil looked startled by the sudden onslaught of people. "Uh… H-Hi. What's going on?"

Scott answered quickly. "We, ah, we thought we heard the alarm."

"Oh," Virgil said. "I've just come through the lounge and I didn't hear it."

"We must be hearing things," John said awkwardly. "I guess we've got a bit trigger happy."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed and enlarged on the lie. "There's a bird around here that's a bit of a mimic. It was probably one of those."

"Come on everyone!" Mrs Tracy tried to resurrect some order. "Breakfast's ready and I'm not going to let it spoil!"

Everyone traipsed back to the table.

Everyone except Gordon, who pulled Virgil to one side. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean what I said yesterday."

"I know," Virgil acknowledged. "Scott explained it to me."

"You're still my friend?"

Virgil nodded. "Friend and brother."

Gordon's face split into a delighted grin. "It's great to hear you say that!"

"Gordon," Mrs Tracy called. "We need more cream cheese. Will you get it please?"

Virgil was closer. "I'll get it." He opened the fridge door, reached inside, removed a container and shut the fridge door again. Then he stopped.

So did everyone else.

Virgil stared at the container in his hand. "How'd I do that?"

Gordon took the container from his brother and read the label. "Cream cheese," he said in wonder. "How'd you know?"

"I don't know," Virgil said dazedly. "I just grabbed it."

"Well did you remember that's where it lives, or did you read the label?" Gordon asked excitedly.

Virgil shook his head "Neither… I think. I don't know how I knew. My hand just kind of went to the right place."

Gordon looked at his family. "You saw! I didn't prompt him."

Virgil was wearing his 'I'm confused' frown.

"I've noticed thing like that happen a few times lately," Tin-Tin said. "Memories seem to appear out of nowhere."

"And disappear just as quickly," Virgil sighed.

"You thought you remembered everything last night, didn't you?" Scott reminded Virgil.

"How do you mean everything?" Jeff asked cautiously.

"He means everything," Virgil said. "It doesn't seem real now. I think I must have dreamt it."

"It seemed to be a pretty real dream," Scott told him.

Jeff decided not to push the issue. "Come on you two," he told his two younger sons. "The hotcakes are disappearing."

"Scott's got most of 'em," John complained.

"Grandma said I could have extra!"

"But not all at once!"

"Can I say something?" Virgil asked.

Everyone stopped what he or she was doing and gave him their full attention.

"I was told last night," Virgil began slowly, "that I apologise too much for things that none of us have any control over. But I would like to apologise for what I said and did yesterday. I know now that I behaved irrationally." He slowly looked around the group, looking each individual in the eye. "I know it's not easy, for any of us, but I'd like to ask you all to try and treat me the way you used to; the way you would have a month ago before my accident. If I don't understand what you are saying or doing, I'll ask, and maybe in that way, I'll get to know you, and myself, better… And I'll get to know you all as my brothers," he indicated Gordon, John and Scott before shifting his gaze to Jeff, "my father…"

Jeff smiled at him.

"…My Grandmother…"

Mrs Tracy inclined her head towards her grandson.

Virgil looked at Kyrano, Brains and finally Tin-Tin, "…And my friends."

Tin-Tin looked down shyly.

"But, the hardest person I've got to get to know is Virgil Tracy. You've all done wonders in showing him to me so far, but I know I've still got a long way to go. I'm hopeful that with a lot of patience, mainly on my part, I'll begin to understand, and know, who I am."

The family were silent as they listened to his statement

"We're all here for you, Virgil," his father told him. "Always remember that, no matter what. If you need help, please ask."

Virgil gave him a grateful smile.

"Now," Jeff continued on. "We've got a fantastic breakfast going cold. Dig in everyone!"

"Pass the maple syrup please, Virgil," John asked.

Virgil looked at the containers in front of him. "Which is the maple syrup?"

"This one," Scott handed it to him, and Virgil passed it over to John.

"What were you doing in the lounge, Virgil?" Gordon scooped a banana onto his hotcakes.

"Checking out something that Scott told me."

"What was that?" Jeff asked.

"He said I 'suffered' from Autosomal Dominant Compelling Helio-Ophthalmic Outburst. So I thought I'd test him out."

Brains looked knowledgeable as the rest of the group looked at Scott quizzically.

"And?" Scott asked.

Virgil grinned. "Three times."

"Ha! Told you," Scott said in glee. "I wish I'd thought of it earlier. I would have been after you with the pepper."

Now everyone was looking at him with a mystified expression.

* * *

The family finished breakfast and sat back. Scott looked at his watch. "If we're going to go on that walk we'd better think about getting moving," he said to Virgil. 

"Apart from cleaning my teeth, I'm ready," Virgil told him. "I take it you're not going to wear that."

Scott looked down at his dressing gown and slippers. He wrinkled his nose. "I did think about it, but perhaps something more practical would be a good idea. Give me fifteen minutes?"

"Okay."

Scott hurried out of the room.

"Would anyone mind if I got in a little practise on the piano while I'm waiting for Scott?" Virgil asked.

"It's pretty much your piano," his father told him. "Hardly anyone else uses it so you can play it whenever you want."

"Thanks. I'd better get started then. Excuse me," Virgil left the room. A short time later they could hear a popular radio tune being played on the baby grand.

"I'm glad he can still play," Jeff said quietly. "Things haven't seemed right without Virgil's music in the background... Not that they are right," he added hastily.

They heard a wrong note and, as a group, flinched.

"Still got a way to go though, hasn't he?" John noted.

"All those years of learning, all those years of practice, gone in an instant." Tin-Tin said, her eyes sober. "What must that feel like?"

* * *

Scott led the way up the path. Virgil followed behind, enjoying listening to his brother tell him about the various parts of the island.

Scott stopped. "That's the way you went," he pointed to where the path diverted off to the right.

"Not initially," Virgil told him. "I went left and then pushed through the bush to the track where you found me."

"I thought you might have done that," Scott said. "When we were kids playing hide 'n seek in the fields at our farm, I'd always find you. Until you realised that you could cut across from one path to another. You had me fooled a couple of times until I learnt your trick."

"Lucky you remembered it."

Scott didn't want to jeopardise the trust that had built up between them, so he didn't tell Virgil that it was technology and their father that had convinced him to go right. "Well you know what's that way, so we'll go left this time." He started off.

In places it was starting to get a bit muddy underfoot. A couple of times their feet slipped out from under them. It was nothing to cause them any concern, so they continued on, moving further inland.

"I haven't been up here in ages," Scott noted. "The last few storms have caused some damage to the track."

Indeed fast flowing water had gouged out a channel that followed the path for a few metres and then slid off into the undergrowth.

"We're not too far from the lookout," Scott said. "I hope we can reach it. It's quite a view, you can look down on the runway."

They rounded a bend in the path. The way ahead was blocked.

"Looks like we've had a bit of a mudslide," Scott said cheerfully.

... _Mudslide!_ ...

"It looks stable enough to climb though." Oblivious, Scott scrambled to the top, turned and crouched down. "Let me help you," he stretched out his hand.

... _She's asking for my help! She's reaching for me, but I can't reach her_. ...

"Virgil?"

... _She's so close, but I can't reach. If only I could get a couple of feet closer, maybe she could jump into my arms... I'd better call for help_. ...

"Are you feeling alright, Virgil?" Concerned at how the colour was leeching from his brother's face, Scott leapt down off the top of the mudslide.

... _She's fallen! I saw her fall! I couldn't help her!_ ..."NO!" 

"Virgil! What's wrong?" Alarmed at his brother's sudden yell, Scott reached out for him. His touch seemed to awaken Virgil.

"S-Scott?"

"Are you alright? You're not in pain are you?"

"I saw her, Scott… I saw her fall!"

"Who? Virgil! You're shaking! What's wrong?"

"She was so young… Maybe seven or eight..."

"Who was?"

"She was crying, but I couldn't get to her…" A sheen of sweat appeared on Virgil's face.

"Who, Virgil?" Concerned, Scott put his arm about his brother's shoulders.

"She was standing on the tiniest ledge… The river… It was between us… Roaring…"

"Who? Where? Who are you talking about!"

"I couldn't reach… She saw me and knew I'd help her… And I couldn't…" Virgil's shaking increased alarmingly.

"Virgil?" Scott drew him into a comforting embrace. "It's okay." His brother trembled violently against him.

"She saw me and knew she'd be safe... I was International Rescue… I'd help her… She actually smiled at me, Scott."

Scott didn't know what he could say to comfort his brother.

"I-I was going to call you… I needed help…"

"What are you talking about?" Scott asked his voice filled with concern.

"I'd made contact with you…"

"Huh?"

"I was too late…"

The germ of realisation formed in Scott's brain. "At your last rescue?" Unable to do anything else, he rubbed Virgil's back comfortingly.

"The ground gave way… She fell… There was nothing I could do… I saw her face as she fell… It was saying 'You didn't save me!'… I saw her hit the rocks, the cliff, the ground…! She was like a rag doll…! She was only a child and I saw her die!" Virgil went into a spasm of emotion.

"I'm sorry, Virgil," Scott whispered. He hugged his brother close, half frightened, half trying to remain reassuring and in control. Surreptitiously he pushed a button on his watch. "It wasn't your fault."

"I had to get to her… in case I could still help… I started to run down the slip… My legs went out from under me and I starting slipping down… I was sliding…! I had no control…! I don't remember anything after…" He emitted a strangled sound. "I don't even know her name."

"Maria," Scott said softly. "Her name was Maria. The doctor said she died quickly. She wouldn't have suffered."

"I should have saved her!"

"You couldn't, Virgil. You did all you could."

"She was only a child."

"I know. Don't blame yourself."

"Why couldn't I save her? We saved other people?"

"You couldn't reach her. The ground was too unstable. It wasn't your fault."

"I want to go home."

Scott was worried about Virgil's state of health. His violent shaking had abated somewhat, but he was still pale, and was leaning heavily against his brother. "Why don't you sit down here for a bit? I'll call someone to come and give you a ride home."

"No," Virgil pushed himself away and stood unsteadily. "I'll walk."

"I don't think…" Scott started to say.

Virgil took a couple of faltering steps down the path and fell, landing on all fours.

Instantly Scott was by his side. "Are you okay? Relax. Someone will be here soon. We'll get you home."

Virgil sat back on his haunches. "No. I don't want help. I want to walk home. I want the fresh air."

"Just wait a bit, okay?" Scott asked. Then, with a degree of hesitancy, added, "Virgil?"

"What?" Virgil mumbled.

"Do you remember anything else?"

"Mmn?" Virgil appeared to have trouble focusing on Scott's words. "'Member?"

"Yeah. You seemed to remember your accident. Do you know what caused your amnesia?"

Virgil frowned. "No."

"Do you remember anything of your life before then?"

Virgil didn't appear to be listening.

"Please, Virgil," Scott begged, "This is important! Do you remember anything from before your accident?"

Virgil managed to shake his head.

"Do you remember your accident? Do you remember falling down the mudslide?"

Virgil whimpered, grimacing as if in pain.

"Virgil? Are you okay?" Scott forgot his other questions in the face of this more important one.

Virgil ran his hand over his eyes. "Headache," he gasped.

This was something that Scott could deal with. "How bad?"

"Bad. Pounding. Flashing lights. I want to lie down. Somewhere dark." Virgil laid his arm across his raised knee and rested his head on it.

Scott rubbed his brother's back reassuringly.

A short time later they heard the gentle hum of a motor. Astride a hoverbike and towing a hover-stretcher carriage, Brains rode into view.

Virgil managed to give Scott a baleful look. "You called him."

"I was worried."

Brains dismounted and rushed over. "What's w-wrong?"

"I'm not riding in that thing," Virgil muttered, his eyes tightly closed. "It's only a headache."

"A bad one," Scott amended. "You can't walk home."

"You'll help me."

"Even if I would, you wouldn't be able to make it. The path's too slippery and you can't even open your eyes. Come on, Virgil. You said you wanted to lie down. Here's your chance."

Brains was taking Virgil's pulse. "I-I'd be happier if you let us t-take you home, V-Virgil."

Virgil appeared to waver. "Only if you let me go to my room. I'm not going to the sickbay."

Scott glanced at Brains. It was a concession. They could continue the discussion back at the Villa.

Brains appeared to agree. "If you insist." He retired to turn the stretcher and hoverbike round.

Virgil squinted at Scott. "At least help me walk to the 'bike."

"Virgil…" Scott started to protest, but his brother was already attempting to stand. Sighing, he stood himself and grasped Virgil firmly about the waist. "Come on," he said gently.

Brains raised his eyebrows at Scott, who shrugged a 'what else could I do' reply.

Virgil didn't complain when they assisted him onto the stretcher carriage and closed the protective cover over him. Scott didn't know whether that was a good sign or a more ominous one.

With Scott riding shotgun on the back of the hoverbike, keeping a watchful eye on their patient, they made a smooth return to the Villa. They entered through a service entrance and took a lift upwards.

Up till now no one else was aware of the drama that had been unfolding. The doors from the lift opened to reveal a very surprised Jeff. Surprise quickly changed to concern when he saw the stretcher and it's occupant. "What happened?"

Virgil heard the voice. He opened his eyes a crack. "Are we there?" He fumbled with the cover of the carriage. "Let me out."

"We're not there yet," Scott told him. "So relax."

"H-He's got a headache," Brains explained to Jeff.

"A headache? Then why the stretcher?"

"It's that bad that he can't walk," Scott explained.

As if he were trying to prove his brother wrong, Virgil managed to swing the cover open and climb off the stretcher. He stood shakily and tried to look his father in the eye. "I'm alright. No one needs to worry about me…" his legs gave way and he would have collapsed onto the floor if Scott hadn't grabbed him.

Jeff stepped forward and grasped his ailing son from the other side. "Brains, go and get the sickbay ready. Scott and I'll bring him straight there."

"Y-Yes, Mr Tracy." Brains hurried away.

"Don't want to go to the sickbay," Virgil complained. "Take me to my room."

"No," Jeff said gruffly. "Not until we're sure it's nothing serious."

"Scott, you promised," Virgil pleaded.

"If there's one thing that I would have thought you would have learnt by now," Scott led the way sideways through door, "is that what our father says, goes."

Virgil closed his eyes again and resigned himself to being led to the infirmary...

* * *

_Hi to everyone who has taken the time to read this story so far… and thanks to all those who have sent reviews, some of which are as entertaining as the story itself._

_Now, the reason why I'm interrupting the flow of my story is to offer up an apology to everyone. I have a rule. I will not upload a story until I have completed it. I may tweak it as I go along, but the story is complete. The reason for this is twofold. From, my point of view, I have the opportunity to rearrange chapters, and make sure that I am totally happy with the story before the 'public' gets to read it. From the 'public's' point of view I don't think it is fair to encourage them to start reading and become involved with a story, and then force them to wait until the author has found the time to complete the next chapter. It's very irritating and frequently you lose the flow of the story, or simply forget what has happened before._

_So, why am I waffling on about all this? Because, unfortunately, my computer has to go back into the shop to (hopefully) be repaired tomorrow morning, and I won't get it back until Tuesday at the earliest. This means that I won't be able to update chapter 22 at least until that evening._

_I am very sorry, and I only hope that you have fingernails left and haven't fallen off your chairs by the time the next chapter is uploaded. And I hope I can get by without my daily fix of reviews._

_So once again thanks, and sorry._

_Purupuss_


	22. Twenty Two

** Twenty Two**

Scott helped his father coax a still complaining Virgil onto a bed in the infirmary.

"W-What happened?" Brains asked as he took note of Virgil's vital signs. "Did he fall…?"

Virgil moaned.

Brains finished his question, "…or receive any blows to the head?"

"No," Scott said, his gaze on his brother who was lying prone on the bed with one arm across his eyes. "He seemed to be fine. There was some damage to the track so I went first to check it was safe. When I turned back he was as white as a sheet and seemed to be in some kind of trance."

Brains looked at him in interest.

"I jumped down and he 'woke up'… but he started talking about his last rescue… I think."

"What!" Jeff exclaimed.

"I think he was remembering what happened before he fell."

"A-And what was that?" Brains asked eagerly.

Scott hesitated. "He saw a girl die. He ran down the debris to help her and his legs went out from under him. Am I right, Virgil?"

The only reply from the bed was a moan.

An anguished looked crossed Scott's face and he took a step towards the door.

"Wait, Scott!" Jeff caught his arm. "What else happened?"

"Um… He was shaking…" Scott looked from his father to the scientist. "It was so violent it was almost like some kind of seizure. That stopped and he said he wanted to walk home, except he couldn't stand. That's when you arrived, Brains…"

"Did he remember anything else," Jeff demanded.

Scott shook his head sadly. "No. I asked him and he said he couldn't. It was obvious that he was in pain," his voice took on a distressed tone, "and I kept on pestering him. I had to know that he'd remembered. I wanted to know! I needed to know!" He looked over at the bed. "I'm sorry, Virgil. I'm really sorry... For everything!" Scott looked back at his father. "Can I go now?"

Jeff released his grip.

Scott escaped into the hall. Once there he stopped and braced himself against the wall. Things had been going so well. What had gone wrong?

Scott decided that he desperately needed some fresh air.

Gordon looked up from his magazine when his eldest brother walked into the lounge. "You're back early."

Scott didn't reply and carried on walking.

His Grandmother looked at his pale face and placed a hand on his arm, arresting his progress. "What's wrong, Darling?"

John put his book down. "And where's Virgil?"

"He's…" Scott swallowed. "Brains is checking him over. He had a bit of a turn."

"A bit of a turn? What do you mean?" Mrs Tracy asked in concern.

"It happened again, didn't it!" Tin-Tin exclaimed.

Scott nodded. "Only this time he's got a headache. We had to stretcher him home."

"Stretcher!" Gordon exclaimed. "For a headache? It must have been a whopper."

"Yeah," Scott said dully.

"It's not your fault, Scott," John told him.

"Isn't it?"

"Of course not!" John said with emphasis.

"Do you think we should tell Alan?" Gordon asked.

Grandma Tracy fretted over the suggestion. "And worry him unnecessarily?"

"We all know," Gordon reminded her. "It's not fair that he's left out of the loop." He initiated the video link.

"Mister Scott? Would you care for a drink of coffee?" Kyrano asked solicitously.

Scott nodded and allowed his grandmother to lead him to a comfortable seat.

"What happened?" John asked.

Scott gave them a brief overview of events, stopping only to thank Kyrano for the coffee. "Virgil saw Maria fall…"

"Who's Maria?" Gordon asked. "Do you mean Doctor Kershaw?"

"No. She was that little girl we found when we were looking for Virgil." Scott decided to gloss over the facts of her death, wanting to spare his Grandmother and Tin-Tin the gory details. "He ran down the mudslide to help her and fell himself."

"He remembered all this?" Mrs Tracy asked. "Can he remember…?"

"No. I asked him."

"How come he only remembers the bad stuff?" John asked no one in particular. "And not the things he likes?"

"He forgot us, so I guess that means he likes us," Gordon theorised.

Scott finished his tale by explaining about the trip back, with Brains, on the hoverbike.

"Virgil's had headaches before," Gordon noted. "Mainly since the accident."

"This one was a killer," Scott said. "What can cause amnesia and that kind of head pain?"

Alan had been listening in on the conversation via his portrait. "Brain tumour?" he asked quietly

At once the room went quiet as the horror of the thought sank in.

John eventually shook his head. "Brains has done scans. He would have picked something like that up…"

"What if it were some rare type that our equipment can't pick up?" Alan persisted.

Tin-Tin let out a strangled sound and her father put a comforting arm about her shoulders. "It is not possible," he said reassuringly.

"If you can't come up with something sensible, Alan, then don't say anything,' John snapped.

Alan lapsed into a sullen silence.

"Is it possible though?" Gordon asked.

"No!" John said emphatically, aware that Tin-Tin looked to be about to burst into tears.

The uncomfortable silence returned.

"It can't be that!" Scott said heatedly. "It's me! It's got to be! These things only happen when I'm around!"

"Scott!" John protested.

"It's not you…" Gordon tried to say.

"I'm…" Scott took a deep breath. "I'm going for a walk. Let me know if there's any news will you, John?" he indicated his watch, placed his mug on the table, stood and started walking towards the patio doors.

John was on his feet and after his older brother. "Scott! It's nothing to do with you!"

Scott turned back. "What other explanation is there?"

"I don't know, but come back and we'll talk about it. There must be something that triggers these attacks off…"

"There is. It's me!"

"No it's not, Scott. It can't be! It's not logical. The pair of you had a great night last night with no problems. You've been together…" John looked at his watch, "… about 15 hours and this thing's only just happened. It can't be you! Let's think about it…"

"I have been thinking about it, John. At nights I've been doing nothing but! And the only common factor I can find is me! There's no point going over it again!"

"But with our help. We're not so emotionally involved."

"Yes you are."

"But not in the same way. Please, Scott." John barred his brother's progress.

"John!" Scott said in frustration. "Has Virgil ever had an attack when you were present and I wasn't?"

"No, but…"

"Alan?" Scott asked his youngest brother's portrait.

"No," Alan said sheepishly.

"Grandma?"

"No, Darling, I've never seen one at all."

"Kyrano?"

"No, Mister Scott."

"Tin-Tin?"

She dabbed at her eyes, shaking her head at the same time.

"Gordon?" Scott turned to the redhead.

"There were his nightmares," Gordon suggested hopefully.

"They weren't the same thing," Scott said. "He was asleep then. Has Virgil ever had one of these attacks around you while I wasn't about?"

"No," Gordon said reluctantly.

Scott turned back to John. "See," he said. "It's me."

"I don't…"

"John! I'm going for a walk! Let me past!" Scott snapped. Then he softened his tone so he was pleading with his brother. "Please, John, let me go. I need the fresh air… I need to think."

John hesitated and then with obvious unwillingness stood to one side.

"Thanks," Scott said. "Promise me you'll call as soon as you hear anything?"

John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Sure, Scott. Not a problem."

"Where are you going?" Grandma asked in concern.

"I… I don't know. Just for a walk I guess." Scott reached the door. "Don't worry about lunch for me, I'll grab something later." He disappeared outside.

John moved to the patio doors and watched Scott walk down the stairs and then take a path. "He's going down to the beach. Makes a change from the gym."

"I think he's past the gym stage," Gordon said. "He's really upset."

John turned from where he was watching Scott slouch morosely along the sands, and looked at his family and friends in the lounge. "I still say we can figure this out! There's got to be a pattern, something that doesn't involve Scott."

"But what?" Alan asked. "Do you have any ideas?"

"No," John admitted. "But let's look at this logically." He went to his father's desk and got out a pad and pen. "I'll bet we can solve this if we all work together."

"You've been reading too many mystery novels," Gordon commented as he pulled up a chair beside his elder brother.

John started off. "Right. How many attacks has Virgil had?" he asked.

Gordon thought a moment. "Are we counting the nightmares?"

"Not at the moment," John suggested. "I think Scott's right. They're different."

"In that case three," Gordon said.

"Three! Is that all?" Mrs Tracy asked. "The way you boys were carrying on I thought there must have been at least fifty."

John made three columns on the paper. "Where were they?"

Tin-Tin brought her chair closer. "Thunderbird Two, Thunderbird One and the runway lookout."

John headed each column with these titles. "Who was present?"

"Thunderbird Two was… Scott, you, me, Alan and Dad," Gordon remembered.

"Scott was showing him about," Alan supplied.

John wrote 'S, J, G, A, D'. "Thunderbird One?"

"Scott," Alan said.

A 'S' went on the pad. "And Scott was the only one with Virgil at the look out," John made the appropriate mark.

"So far, so bad," Gordon said.

"Well, we already knew all that," John said. "It's only the start." He thought a moment. "What was in the immediate surroundings?"

"Thunderbird Two's flight deck," Gordon said.

"Virgil's territory," Alan said. "It's pretty enclosed."

"Outside Thunderbird One's more open and had has the 100 foot drop," Tin-Tin said.

"Yeah, but you're still inside a hangar," Gordon added. "It could be pretty claustrophobic, if you think you're not used to it."

John made some notes. "Anyone been up to the lookout lately?"

"No, but judging by Scott's description it's all mud, water and shrubbery. There's nothing in common there," Gordon said.

"So we've got two state of the art facilities and, you can't get anymore low tech than a dirt track," Alan said.

John sighed as he wrote. "What time did the attacks happen?"

"Afternoon, late morning, mid morning," Tin-Tin said.

John groaned. "We're getting nowhere, aren't we. What else can we compare?"

* * *

The thorough medical examination was over. The results suggested nothing ominous, or any cause of the debilitating headache.

Virgil lied and said he was feeling better. He felt an irresistible need to be in a place of relative familiarity, away from the cold sterility and antiseptic smells of the hospital wing of the complex. He insisted that he be allowed to return to his room.

His father's and Brains' expressions told him that they didn't believe him, but they didn't stop him.

Virgil didn't know how he managed to make his way back to his bedroom unaided. He was grateful to find that someone had already closed his curtains for him. With a groan he collapsed onto his bed and lay there willing his pounding head to cease its agonising rhythm.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to sleep, but failed. As his head pounded images floated in and out of his mind, renewed with each brain-strangling throb. Images that, behind his closed eyes, were as clear as the room he was lying in…

He saw the world flash past as he slid helplessly down the mudslide…

He saw Maria falling…

He was switching on his radio to call Scott…

Maria was reaching out for him…

He was climbing the rock fall…

He could hear a small voice calling for help…

He was talking to Scott at Mobile Control…

He was arriving at the danger zone...

He was flying out, in Thunderbird Two, from Tracy Island…

He was playing 'Moonlight Sonata' on the piano…

Other images formed and faded.

Successful rescues…

Unsuccessful rescues…

The first test flight of Thunderbird Two…

Seeing Tracy Island for the first time…

The memories came flooding back. Before International Rescue; his school years; his mother…

Denver University of Advanced Technology…

High School…

Family Outings…

Christmases past…

Birthdays - both his and his family and friends…

Ma's death.

At last Virgil slept.

* * *

Jeff and Brains remained in the infirmary after Virgil had left.

"Did you believe he was feeling better, Brains?" Jeff asked.

"N-No, Sir."

"Me neither," Jeff said with a reflective air. "Do you have ANY idea what's wrong?"

"N-No, Sir," Brains repeated. "…But it is worrying."

Jeff ran his hand over his face in a tired manner and suddenly Brains saw how much the strains of the past month were bearing down on his employer and friend. Jeff Tracy suddenly looked like an old man.

"I've, ah, d-drawn up a list of the things th-that I'm aware of that Virgil has forgotten." Brains timidly held out a clipboard to Jeff. "I-I've noticed a pattern."

Jeff didn't even look at the piece of paper in front of him. "They're all things that he cares about, one way or another, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"But I don't see how that knowledge helps us."

The scientist cleared his throat. He had something that he had to say, but didn't particularly want to say it. "M-Mr T-Tracy."

Jeff leant against a table and sighed wearily. "Yes, Brains."

"It's b-been over a m-month since Virgil g-got amnesia."

Jeff sighed again. "I know."

"A-And th-there's been no n-noticeable improvement."

"I know," Jeff repeated again.

Brains swallowed nervously. "H-Have you r-read the literature I-I gave you?"

Jeff looked at Brains sharply. "Yes!" he said succinctly.

Brains found he couldn't look at Jeff. "D-Do you th-think…"

"NO!" Jeff exploded. "You're saying I should book Virgil in for that treatment, aren't you?"

"I-It's an o-option."

"No it's not!" Jeff stormed. "It's inhumane! It's cruel! It's barbaric…"

"M-Mr Tracy…"

"It's mediaeval torture!"

"A-And it h-has worked in s-similar cases."

"I'm not putting him through that!" Jeff began to pace up and down.

"M-Mr Tracy. I a-agree that the t-treatment is h-harsh…"

Jeff snorted. "Harsh! Is that what you call it? I'd call it abuse!"

"It m-may b-be a cure," Brains protested.

"Which is worse than the disease!" Jeff snapped.

Brains took a breath. He hadn't seen Jeff this angry in a long time. "H-Have you r-read all of th-the information?"

"No! It was too sickening. Look, Brains. I respect your opinion, but that treatment is not an option. We can't risk International Rescue's security!"

"M-Mr Tra…"

"There are no guarantees!"

"Mr T-Tr…"

"I'm not about to waste my money on a load of quackery!"

"M-Mr Trac…"

"And I'm not going to put MY son through that punishment!"

"M-Mr Tracy," Brains was finally able to get a word in. "I-I understand. I-I feel the s-same. But, f-forgive m-me for s-saying this, it is n-not your d-d-decision… Or m-mine," he added quickly and then braced himself for the blast that he felt sure would come.

Instead Jeff stared at him intensely. "You mean Virgil should be the one to decide, don't you?" he eventually said in a quiet voice.

"Y-Yes, M-Mr Tracy."

"Why would he want to put himself through that?"

"P-People have chosen to u-undergo this treatment of th-their own free will. I-I don't pretend to kn-know what Virgil is g-going through. I-I can only im-magine what having amnesia is like. M-Maybe h-he will feel that the p-possible outcome is w-worth the sacrifice."

Jeff let his shoulders fall in defeat. "I don't want him to go through that," he said sadly. "But if he wants to I'll have to let him," he looked at his friend, "won't I?"

Brains felt his heart go out to this man who loved his son so much that he was torn between the need to protect him at all costs and the equally strong desire to help him. "Yes, Mr Tracy."

Jeff sighed. "I'll tell him when he's feeling better."

* * *

John dropped the pen onto the paper in frustration. "Scott, why didn't you stay and help!" he exclaimed into empty air. "We need you!"

"Maybe he's right," Alan said slowly. "Maybe he is the trigger."

"Shut up, Alan," John said. "I don't believe that."

"Why don't we add the nightmare into your chart?" Tin-Tin suggested. "Maybe there is a link."

"Okay," John added an extra column and headed it 'Nightmare'. "What do we know about it?"

"I don't know," Gordon admitted. "I didn't hear what it was."

"Virgil's falling beside a skeleton dressed in a white dress," Mrs Tracy told him.

"Huh?" Gordon stared at her. "Is it Virgil or the skeleton in the dress?"

"The skeleton," his Grandma said.

"Thank heavens for that."

"And the skeleton is asking him for help," Tin-Tin added.

"Weird," Gordon noted.

"Well?" John asked. "What's the link?"

"Uh," Gordon was stumped.

"Let's go through your criteria again," Alan suggested. "Who was present? No one, or Gordon."

"Or me," John added, depressed.

"And Scott was the only one able to stop it," Tin-Tin said. "That's got to be a positive, isn't it?" Then she sat up. "Wait a minute!"

Everyone looked at her in interest. "What?" Alan asked.

"Gordon!" she turned to his brother. "That girl that Scott said that Virgil said he saw fall. What was she wearing? Was it a dress?"

"I think so," he said.

"What colour?" Tin-Tin asked eagerly.

"I don't know," Gordon admitted. "I know it was covered in dust and dirt and blood and…" he looked at his grandmother, "…and stuff. It wasn't pretty."

"But was it originally white?" Tin-Tin pressed him.

"I didn't notice."

"But Virgil would," John said. "He'd notice the colour before anything else!"

"But how does that help?" Alan asked. "That could explain the dream, but it doesn't help us with Scott's problem."

They all lapsed into thought again.

"Maybe it's nothing physical that's the trigger," Tin-Tin suggested. "Maybe someone said something!"

"Such as?" Mrs Tracy asked.

"I don't know. I wasn't there…" Tin-Tin looked expectantly first at Gordon, then at Alan and then finally at John.

"Don't look at me," John reminded her. "I was on Thunderbird Five when the Thunderbird One episode happened."

"Well start with what we know," she insisted. "What was Scott saying up at the lookout?"

"I don't know," Alan said. "What was he saying?"

"We can surmise," Kyrano said quietly.

"Okay. Let's try that," John said. "I'll be Scott, Gordon you be Virgil."

"Thanks. Give me the pen and paper to get into character, or shall I go sit at the piano?"

John ignored him. "Scott was probably leading the way. What would he be saying?"

"'Follow me'?" Gordon suggested.

"You're Scott," Alan said. "You tell us."

John thought. "They're going up to the lookout. We saw how muddy Scott's clothes were. He'd be commenting on the state of the track, and telling Virgil to look out for himself."

"And Virgil would be listening," Gordon said.

"And then what?" Mrs Tracy asked.

"They come to the clearing and are faced with a blocked track, and Scott checks it out and decides it's safe to climb…" John said.

"Fine," Alan complained. "But what was he saying?"

John gave a small smile. "How about 'Be careful while you climb the mudslide'?"

They thought about what he said. "Makes sense," Gordon admitted. "Maybe that could jog a memory. But why would Scott say something like that when he's showing Virgil Thunderbird One? And we were there in Thunderbird Two. Nobody said anything remotely similar!"

"Oh," John slumped slightly.

Tin-Tin wasn't prepared to give up. "Maybe it doesn't have to be the same word. Maybe it's just a memory jogger of some kind. What was everyone saying in Thunderbird Two?"

"We'd got the testing seat and he was sitting in it," John remembered.

"And Scott was initiating the flight sequence," Alan added.

"And?" Tin-Tin asked impatiently.

The three Tracy men frowned as they thought.

"Nope!" John threw his hands up in exasperation. "I've gone blank. It seems a lifetime ago."

"It is as far as Virgil's concerned," Gordon noted.

"You said Mister Scott was initiating the flight sequence," Kyrano prompted. "What are the procedures?"

Gordon closed his eyes to visualise Thunderbird Two's control panel. "Turn it on…" his fingers flipped an imaginary switch. "Check everything's A-OK… Check the radar…"

"Then Scott leant across Virgil to…" John mimed the action.

Gordon's hand went out to the invisible switch. "Open the hangar door." He opened his eyes when his hand came in contact with Johns. They both hurriedly retracted their arms.

"And then Virgil jumped out of the seat as if something had bitten him," Alan said.

"That doesn't sound too promising," Grandma Tracy said.

"No…" John agreed. "Okay. Let's try Thunderbird One again."

"But none of us were there," Alan moaned.

"Virgil told me he had this sensation of falling," Gordon told them.

"I've had this," John said. "We need an informed opinion. I'm calling Scott." Before anyone could stop him he'd opened the link.

Scott's eager face appeared almost instantaneously in place of his portrait. "You've got news!"

Immediately John felt guilty. "Ah… no. We wanted your help."

Eagerness was replaced by disappointment tinged with curiosity. "Help?"

"We're trying to work out what's triggering Virgil's attacks."

"John!" Scott said in exasperation. "I told you! I've thought about this. The only link is me!"

"I don't believe that, Scott. We think we can…" John sentence faded away as Scott grew visibly angry. He shrunk back. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to help."

Gordon stood so that Scott could see him over the video link. "Humour him, Scott. He thinks he's the detective in one of his whodunit novels."

Scott checked his temper. "What do you want to know?"

"What did you say to Virgil up at the lookout?"

"I… I think I commented on the view… and the state of the track."

"Anything else?"

"I offered to help him up the mudslide."

John looked at his family. "Okay. That tallies with what we thought. What did you say to him at the time of the Thunderbird One attack?"

Scott thought. "He seemed happy. He was admiring Thunderbird One and asking questions about her stats and where the launch bay was. So I answered that. He said I must be a good pilot to be able to land her through the pool and I said we all could do it. He commented on how high Thunderbird One was, and I think I remember telling him to hang on to the guard rail so he wouldn't fall."

John appeared surprised. "Really?"

Scott nodded. "Really. And then he freaked out."

"Okay. Thanks." John thought about this for a moment and then decided to move onto another tack. "We think the nightmare's related to that little girl's accident."

"Maria," Scott reminded him. He thought for a moment. "That would make sense…"

"So what actually happened?" John asked.

Scott seemed reluctant to reply. "What he told me was pretty disjointed… It took me ages to realise what he was talking about…"

"Yes?" John prompted.

"She was standing on a ledge up the cliff…"

"And?" John prompted again.

"He… Virgil…" Scott grimaced. "He couldn't save her in time and saw her fall. Apparently she…" Scott cast about for the right word, "bounced against the cliff face a few times before she hit the ground…"

Tin-Tin gasped and Mrs Tracy emitted an "Oh, my!"

Scott heard them. He became angry again. "I thought you two were alone!"

"Ah, no," John admitted. "Everyone's here. Everyone except…"

"Leave it, John!" Scott interrupted. "You can't solve it because there's nothing to solve! Just count your blessings that your brother doesn't have a fit every time you're with him!"

"Scott…" John tried.

"I don't want to hear from you again, unless it's to tell me how Virgil is! Okay!"

"Okay," a severely chastened John said. "I won't call until…"

But Scott had signed off.

John rubbed at his face. "That was a mistake wasn't it? And I don't know that it really helped."

"We know a little bit more," Tin-Tin tried to reassure him.

"I guess. A reminder of falling may be a trigger too," John said.

"But no one said anything about falling in Thunderbird Two!" Gordon stated. "We're still no closer."

"I know!" Alan suddenly exclaimed.

"Know what?" Gordon asked.

"I bet I know what the Thunderbird Two trigger was!"

"Sure, Alan," John said, a lack of interest evident in his voice.

"I do!"

"Well don't hold it in," his Grandmother instructed him. "Spit it out, boy!"

"Scott said…" Alan paused for effect. "That the hangar door was hidden by the CLIFF face."

They stared at him as they rolled the phrase around in their minds.

"By George, I think he's got it," Gordon said in his best imitation of an upper crust English accent.

"Alan. You're brilliant!" Tin-Tin enthused.

Alan blushed.

John slowly looked up from the pad towards his youngest brother. "Alan," he said with feeling. "I take back every unpleasant thought I've had about you these last few days."

Alan smiled. "Thanks. Are you going to call Scott and tell him?"

John shook his head. "No."

"Why not!" Tin-Tin asked. "He'll be so pleased."

Mrs Tracy agreed with her grandson. "We'd be wise to make sure of our facts first."

"I want to run this past Brains and see if he thinks we're right," John explained.

Jeff Tracy chose that moment to enter the room. He was carrying a folder. "What are you all doing? Where's Scott?"

"He's gone for a walk," John said. "He needed some fresh air. How's Virgil?"

"Pretending that his headache's gone. He's gone back to his own room. I've just been in to check on him and he's sound asleep."

"So Brains is alone?" John asked eagerly.

"Yes he… What's going on?" Jeff asked as they all rushed for the door.

But they'd gone.

All except his mother, who had looked at her son, noticed his expression and pale colouring, and decided that her place was with him. "Are you alright, Jeff?"

"Me? I'm just dandy," he looked at her tiredly.

"You look like you could do with a nice hot cup of coffee."

"Sounds wonderful, Mother."

"Just you relax, Darling. I'll get one for you."

"Thanks…" Jeff watched her as she walked out the door. Then he slowly walked around to behind his desk and sat down.

He placed the folder on the desk and stared at it at moment before opening it. He felt sick as he read the opening paragraph…


	23. Twenty Three

** Twenty Three**

When Virgil awoke he didn't know how long he'd been sleeping. Long enough for someone to come in a place a blanket over him. With relief he realised that his headache was gone.

He looked at his clock, which read 11.52. In the morning or evening he wasn't sure, so he threw off the blanket and went over to his window, drawing back the blinds.

Daylight.

It was morning.

He must have slept most of the day and all night. He realised that he hadn't been plagued by his nightmares. He realised that he was hungry.

Then Virgil realised something else.

He looked out the window again and the scene that greeted him was as familiar as an old friend.

Virgil looked round his room. Each object, each item of furniture had a name and an associated memory.

He sat down heavily on the window seat in stunned realisation.

He could remember!

Virgil tried testing himself. He tried to remember things that only he would know about, things that his family and friends would not know to tell him. He had no trouble recollecting a single memory.

With a growing sense of delight, he went into his studio and began flicking through his collection of paintings and drawings. Virgil could remember creating each picture as clearly as if it were yesterday.

When he came to the drawing of Tin-Tin he removed it so he could examine it closer. With pleasure he discovered that he was able to read the inscription: 'To Alan. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. With brotherly love. From Virgil.' He got a marker and dated the note, enjoying the sensation of knowing what to write and how to write it, and then carefully returned the picture to its place.

Then Virgil left his room and wandered down to the lounge. Only his father was there, reading some documents.

Jeff looked up and seemed almost startled to see his son standing there. "Oh, it's you! I thought you'd be asleep for longer than this. How's the head?"

"Better thanks. The headache's gone. How long was I asleep for?"

Jeff looked at his watch. "I'd say just on two hours."

"Is that all? I feel like it was for longer. I thought I'd slept for at least 24."

Jeff smiled and shook his head. "Grandma's just gone to get me a coffee. Would you like me to get her to bring you one too? It's nearly lunchtime."

"No. I'm fine, thanks. I'll wait for lunch. Where is everyone?"

"I'm not sure. They all took off when I came in as if I was infected with the plague. I think they've gone to talk with Brains."

"Oh," Virgil said.

"And I think Scott's gone for a walk. I'm pretty sure he blames himself for your headache."

"He does? Why? He wasn't talking that much."

"No. He believes that he's the cause of your, for want of a better word, attacks."

Virgil shook his head. "That's crazy!"

"I wish you'd tell him when he gets back."

"Don't worry. I think I've got some good news for him." Virgil gestured towards the piano. "I thought I might get in some practice before lunch. Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind. I like hearing you play."

'_You're going to love this then,'_ Virgil thought to himself. He sat down and ran through a set of scales to warm up. It felt good; it felt right. He started to play.

Jeff tried to read the contents of the dreaded folder again, but after a moment lifted his head to listen. "That sounds better than this morning. You're improving."

"Thanks." Virgil continued playing the same piece.

Jeff was still listening when his mother re-entered the room carrying his coffee and sugar on a tray. "Virgil's improved hasn't he?" he said to her. "I don't know this tune. It must be one he's made up…"

There was a gasp and Mrs Tracy dropped her tray.

"Mother!" Jeff exclaimed. He stood and rushed to her side. "Are you all right?"

She nodded dazedly.

"Then why did you drop the tray?"

"What's the matter with you, Jefferson, are you deaf?"

"Deaf? Mother, what are you talking about?"

"The music!"

Virgil grinned and gave his grandmother a wink.

"Huh," Jeff scratched his head in bewilderment.

"Don't you know what he's playing…? What your son is playing?"

"No? It sounds good but…"

"Sounds good! I'll say it 'sounds good'. He's playing 'It's All Coming Back To Me'. It was a popular tune when I was a girl. No one would have thought of playing it in the last few weeks." She turned back to Virgil. "Then does this mean…"

Virgil's grin broadened. "I never could pull the wool over your eyes, could I, Grandma."

"Grandma!" She placed her hand on her chest as if to steady her heart. "Did you hear him, Jeff? He called me Grandma."

Jeff's shock, as realisation dawned, appeared have a stupefying effect on him. He gazed at Virgil with his mouth slightly open.

"I remember," Virgil began, "when we were kids, you'd tell us off for staring at people like that. You said we'd catch flies in our mouths." He finished the piece with a flourish and beamed at his father and grandmother.

"He's right, Jeff." Mrs Tracy tapped her son under the chin.

This seemed to awaken Jeff out of his stupor. "You remember?" he breathed. "How much can you remember, Son?"

Virgil stood up and moved away from the piano towards his family. "Everything, I think… Father."

"Father…" Jeff took a step forward. "Did you call me Father? I can't believe this. I'm dreaming." He reached out for Virgil as if he had to reassure himself.

Virgil grasped his hand and held it tightly. Both men stayed that way briefly before Jeff pulled his son into an emotional embrace. "Welcome back, Virgil," he said tightly.

"It's good to be back, Father." Virgil was surprised at how good the hug felt. It brought back memories of good times. It brought a feeling of security that had been missing for the last few weeks.

After a full minute they broke apart.

"Do I get a hug too?" Mrs Tracy asked.

"Anytime, Grandma," Virgil told her and wrapped his arms around his Grandmother. "Boy, this feels good!"

"Do your brothers know?" Jeff asked after a short time.

"No."

"They will soon. Play something, Virgil." Jeff decided to forego the in-house communication system, instead slamming his hand down on the emergency call-out button…

* * *

Scott was sitting on a rock alone. He was the furthest away from the villa that he could get and still remain on Tracy Island.

He picked up a dead and dried leaf and crunched it up in his hand. He'd never felt so lost and helpless; not with regards to his family. He tried to think rationally about his situation. It was clear to him that he and Virgil couldn't continue living under the same roof, but the idea of separation saddened him. Equally he hated the idea of being the one who bought pain to his brother.

Scott looked out over the Pacific Ocean. He supposed that it would be possible for him to live, with Thunderbird One, on a nearby island. That way he would be close enough to his family and International Rescue, but far enough that he couldn't create any problems. Living that close, he decided, he'd be able to pop home for the occasional meal…

The emergency alarm on his watch sprung into action.

* * *

Almost immediately the occupants of the lounge in the villa heard the sounds of running feet.

"What's wrong?"

"Where's the emergency?"

"Wh-What equipment do we need?"

Jeff held up a silencing hand. "Shush and listen while I get Alan on the line." His plan was arrested when his eldest son's portrait's eyes started flashing. "Go ahead, Scott."

Scott was obviously running. "I'm heading home… I'm on the far side of the island… Tell the guys to leave without me."

"F-A-B, Son," Jeff replied, trying to keep a straight face. Scott disappeared from his portrait.

Bemused John, Gordon, and Brains waited patiently as the link with Thunderbird Five was opened.

Virgil played on serenely in the background. No one took any notice. He changed the tune to something that required a little more skill.

There was still no recognition from his two brothers and friend.

"What can I do for you, Dad?" Alan asked, obviously unaware of any crisis.

"Hang on," Gordon said. "Why'd you use the emergency button if there's no emergency?"

"Because I thought it was important that you all got here as soon as possible," Jeff told him.

"But why," John asked. "What's so important that it couldn't wait?"

"Didn't I tell you boys to listen?" Jeff asked them as he tried to maintain a stern countenance. They didn't notice the way his mouth was fighting against a smile.

"Yeah," Gordon said, "but what to?"

"Oh you boys!" Grandma Tracy sounded exasperated. "Are you all deaf? Something wonderful's happened," and, to her grandsons' bemusement, she burst into tears.

"Grandma! What's wrong?" John was closest and he held her in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"Nothing," she sniffed. "It's wonderful."

"Wonderful?" John looked over her head at Gordon and Alan, both of whose faces both held a perplexed expression.

Brains looked between each Tracy family member and was relieved to realise that he wasn't the only one feeling confused.

Jeff Tracy seemed quite unconcerned about his mother's apparent breakdown. The grin that he'd been trying to hide succeeded in plastering itself on his face.

Tin-Tin and Kyrano hurried into the room. "What is going on, Mr Tracy?" Kyrano asked. "Mrs Tracy? What is wrong?"

Virgil changed the piece of music he was playing once again. This new tune was one of his own compositions; one that Alan had commissioned for Tin-Tin's 21st birthday. Virgil had never played it to an audience; he'd made a recording to try and distance himself from the gift. It was a recording that Tin-Tin often played at nights when Alan was away on Thunderbird Five and she was alone. It meant a lot to her, but to most of the others in the household it meant nothing. It had never been heard outside of her room.

Until today.

She stopped and looked at the pianist, who winked at her. "Virgil?"

He nodded.

"Virgil?" she repeated and stepped closer. "You remember it?"

"I remember," he said quietly. "I also remember the day you first heard it."

"So do I," she replied. "I don't think I ever thanked you for composing it."

"You weren't meant to. It was Alan's idea."

"Do you remember everything?"

Virgil smiled. "I think so."

"Oh! That's wonderful!" Tin-Tin flung her arms about his neck and gave him an emotional kiss of pleasure.

His brothers and her father watched incredulously. "What's wonderful?" they wondered.

Virgil chuckled and pushed her back slightly. "Ah, Tin-Tin… People might get the wrong idea, and I'm thinking of one person in particular."

She straightened and turned back so she was facing Alan, who was practically trying to claw his way through the video link to separate them. "Isn't it wonderful!" Tears of happiness were sliding down her cheeks.

Virgil turned back to the piano and began playing Tin-Tin's tune again.

"What?" Alan squeaked, trying, and failing, to maintain some dignity. "What's wonderful? What's going on?"

She wiped her eyes, and sighed in exasperation. "Haven't you been listening?"

"Why do people keep saying that?" Alan complained. "We can't hear anything over Virgil's piano playing!"

"Alan!" his father instructed. "Listen!"

"I am," Alan whined. "I can't hear any…" A light bulb of realisation ignited itself in his mind. "Virgil! I know this piece!"

"I should hope so," Virgil told him.

"But…"

"Would someone please tell me what's going on?" Gordon cried out in exasperation. "Why do I feel I'm being left out of something important?"

"You and me both," John agreed.

"A-And me," Brains sat on a chair and waited patiently, sure that things would resolve themselves soon.

"I too am lost," Kyrano admitted.

"Guys! Don't you get it?" Alan asked.

John had released his grandmother who was looking at him pointedly. "Get what?"

"Listen to Virgil," Alan insisted. "He's remembered this piece of music. What else can you remember, Virgil?"

Virgil stopped playing. "Oh, a whole heap of stuff. I can remember the day you were born. I can remember Gordon's first day of school. I can remember John's first date. I can remember when Scott joined the Air Force. I can remember the day I met Brains. I can remember tasting the first meal Kyrano cooked for us..." He started ticking the list off on his fingers. "I can remember when we shifted to Tracy Island. I can remember when Father first suggested International Rescue. I can remember the first design for Thunderbird Two and what a dog that was. I can remember her maiden test flight. I can remember that first rescue when I ended upside down in the Master Elevator Car…"

"You're kidding!" John gasped

"No. Do you want me to carry on?"

"Yes," Gordon nodded. "This is music to my ears! You're not just saying this to tease us?"

"No…" Virgil was about to begin again but stopped when John's watch started beeping.

"John here."

"John? Where are you?" they could all hear Scott's breathless voice. "Why aren't you in uniform?"

"We're still in the lounge. You're not going to…"

"John!" Scott gasped. "Get Gordon, and anyone else you need, and get going in Thunderbird Two!"

"Scott…" John tried to say.

"I'm at least 15 minutes from home, but I'll still get to the danger zone before you. So get moving!" Scott ceased communication before John had a chance to enlighten him.

"You know," Virgil said, "just once I'd like to prove him wrong and have Thunderbird Two succeed in getting to a rescue before Thunderbird One."

John let out a cheer. "Now I know you're back with us! This is fantastic!"

"I thought the word was wonderful," Gordon teased.

"It's that too," John agreed.

"This is a pleasure, Mister Virgil," the smile on Kyrano's face was, for him, the equivalent of extreme enthusiasm.

"You're honestly not teasing us, Virgil?" Gordon asked.

"Honestly," Virgil reassured him.

John leant on the piano. "Remember something!" he begged.

"Like what?" Virgil asked.

"Like… Do you know I can't think of anything?" John frowned.

"Wh-What is the first law of thermodynamics?" Brains asked.

"That energy is neither created or destroyed in a chemical reaction," Virgil answered.

"H-He's right," Brains cheered. "He remembered!" And he danced a little jig of joy.

Virgil smiled at his friend's reaction. Then he started choking. "Let go of me, Gordon!"

Gordon had thrown his arms around Virgil's neck in a rough hug. He released his grip. "Sorry. I'm just so pleased that you're back to normal!"

Virgil massaged his throat. "I didn't realise you were serious when you said you wanted me dead."

"Virgil!" Gordon moaned. "I was tired and I didn't mean it! You're not going to continue to hold it against me are you?"

Virgil shook his head and smiled. "No. I know what you're like and I know you didn't mean it. It won't be mentioned again."

"Promise?" Gordon asked.

"Promise," Virgil reassured him.

"Thank you!" Gordon planted a kiss on his brother's head.

Virgil screwed up his face in disgust. "Yuck," he said.

"Does this mean I can go back to being annoying little brother?" Gordon asked.

"Yes..." Virgil replied warily.

"Great!" Gordon began bouncing around the piano. "Virgil's got his memory back! Virgil's got his memory back!"

Virgil looked at John. "Should I have said no?"

"I think that might have been a good idea," John said as Gordon skipped behind him.

"Virgil's got his memory back!" Gordon sang cheerfully as he ruffled John's carefully tousled locks.

"Gerroff, Gordon," John growled.

"Virgil's got his memory back!" Gordon deviated his course and danced towards his father's desk. "Virgil's got his memory back!"

"Settle down, Gordon," Jeff said as some paperwork fell to the ground.

"Virgil's got his memory back!"

"I can't wait to see Scott's face," Mrs Tracy clapped her hands together in pleasure.

This quietened Gordon down quicker than his father's reprimand had done. "Why don't we spin it out a bit," he said slyly.

"That would be too cruel," Tin-Tin rebuked him.

"Not for too long," he amended. "But this is too good an opportunity to miss."

"You've got a devious mind," John told him.

"I know. But I haven't had any fun in weeks…"

"Thanks," Virgil said darkly.

"You know what I mean. I'm itching to play a joke on someone. If I don't do something soon I'll start to get withdrawal symptoms!"

"Maybe that's what your problem's been," Alan offered. "Not lack of sleep. Lack of practical jokes!"

"What do you have in mind?" Jeff asked carefully.

"Nothing too elaborate. How long have we got before he gets here, Alan?"

Alan checked the signal from Scott's watch on Thunderbird Five's computer. "He's about 10 minutes away."

"Plenty of time. This is what I think we should do…" Gordon outlined his plan. "Well?" he asked when he'd finished.

They all stared at him.

"Well, what do you think? Do we do it?"

"I don't know, Gordon," John said. "I can never keep a straight face when doing these things. Especially when I have to lie. And I get tongue-tied."

"So, tell the truth, but make sure it can be interpreted in a negative fashion," Gordon advised.

"Gordon should know about that. He's had plenty of practise over the last couple of days," Virgil commented.

"What's that saying about eavesdroppers never hearing any good about themselves?" Gordon asked him.

"I'll give the game away," John protested.

"Rubbish! You'll be fine," Gordon told him. "Besides, it's Virgil who's got the tough job. Do you think you can carry it off, Virgil?"

"Well, I didn't join the drama club at school to paint the scenery. Yeah, I think I can."

"Good! Are we all in?" Gordon asked.

No one answered.

"Come on," he said impatiently. "He'll be here any minute!"

"What do you think, Virgil," Jeff asked warily.

Virgil grinned. "I'm in. But only because I think I owe Gordon, big time."

Jeff sighed. "Okay. I'll probably regret it, but I'll help."

"Great!" Gordon was beaming. "John?"

"Yeah, okay," John said grudgingly.

"Alan?"

"Since he won't be able to get even with me for the next month, I'm in."

"Grandma?"

"You're wicked, young Gordon."

"I know that, but will you help?"

"Of course. I'm always willing to enjoy some harmless fun."

"Tin-Tin?"

Tin-Tin pouted. "Don't you think Scott's been through enough this past month?"

Gordon laughed. "Never mind Scott. Think about the rest of us. At least he's been getting a decent nights sleep. Do it for me... Do it for Virgil!"

"Alright," she sighed. "But only because I don't want to have to put up with you moaning about me being a spoilsport, Gordon."

"Thanks, Honey. Kyrano?"

"I would prefer to participate from the other room, Mister Gordon."

"Fair enough," Gordon said easily. "Brains?"

"I-I don't have to d-do anything?"

"Nope. Just stand there and look worried."

"I-I can manage that," Brains nodded.

"He's at the bluff," Alan warned them.

"Okay. Action stations everyone," Gordon ordered. "Act your socks off. Come on, John."

"Who's the bossy one now?" Virgil asked loudly to anyone who would listen. Gordon glared at him and he gave an easy grin in return. "Go on or you'll be too late."


	24. Twenty Four

** Twenty Four**

Scott heaved himself over the bluff and continued running at breakneck speed down the track on the other side. He could see some of the buildings of his home's complex and he managed to push a bit more speed out of his legs.

He'd almost reached the bottom of the outside stairway when Gordon and John stepped out and intercepted him.

"What are you doing?" Scott gasped, dragging in great lungfuls of air. He leant on Gordon for support. "I thought I told you to take Thunderbird Two and go!"

"It's not an International Rescue problem," Gordon told him anxiously. "It's… well it's a Tracy problem."

John nodded with a trifle too much emphasis.

Scott frowned. "What do you mean? Why'd Father use the emergency call out alarm if it's nothing to do with International Rescue? What's so important?" He straightened up.

"It's Virgil," Gordon told him.

"Virgil? What's happened!"

"He's gone crazy, Scott," John said.

"Crazy? What do you mean?"

"He's… He's…" John said lamely as his mind went blank.

Gordon frowned at him "His whole personality's changed."

"Changed? How?" Scott was starting to get worried.

"It's like… he's gone all aggressive."

"Aggressive? Virgil? But he wouldn't hurt a fly. Even with the amnesia… well apart from a couple of days ago… But then he thought he was defending himself..." Scott thought quickly. "What does Brains say?"

"Brains… ah…" even Gordon's quick wit couldn't formulate a suitable reply.

"We didn't get the chance to talk to him," John said quickly. "Virgil wouldn't let get near him us." He frowned and reworked the sentence. "I mean… Virgil wouldn't let us get near him."

Gordon nodded, as much in approval of John's reply as in agreement.

"What's Father say?"

"Same story," Gordon said and John nodded frantically again. Gordon surreptitiously nudged him and he stopped.

"Has he hurt anyone?" By now Scott was getting really worried.

"No… Not yet," Gordon told him. "But he's looking for you."

"For me? Why?"

Gordon shrugged. "I dunno. I just know that he's frightening at the moment."

"He's had Grandma in tears," John added helpfully.

"That's right," Gordon agreed.

"And Tin-Tin," John was beginning to gain some confidence in the tale they were spinning.

"Yes," Gordon said

"Grandma was crying on my shoulder," John added with enthusiasm.

"Thanks, John," Gordon said pointedly. "Scott's got the picture."

"Sorry."

"Oh, heck," Scott said. "Where is he?"

"Last time we saw him he was in the lounge," Gordon supplied.

Scott looked upwards towards the patio. "I guess I'd better get up there. Are you two coming?"

"Are you kidding?" Gordon exclaimed. "He hates me. I'm terrified of him at the moment. He's remembered the dumb things I said the other day." Gordon opened his eyes wider in an approximation of fear. "I think I heard him say something about getting to me before I had the chance to get to him."

"What!"

"I know. It's out of character isn't it? That's what makes it all the more frightening. If he's got a knife or some other weapon I'm staying well clear." Gordon turned to his other brother. "Do you know if the laser cabinet's locked up, John?"

"Laser cabinet! Uh, um, ah, dunno."

Scott looked at John. "And why are you here?"

"I'm… ah… er… I'm acting as Gordon's bodyguard," John's newly acquired confidence was deserting him.

"What about the rest of the family?" Scott asked him. "Who's protecting them?"

"It's only me he seems to have it in for," Gordon supplied.

"Well, the both of you," John told his older brother.

"You're the only one who's got a chance of calming him down, Scott," Gordon pleaded. "You succeeded yesterday. You've got to do something."

"Me…? But he wasn't out to get me yesterday!" Scott looked back up to the patio reluctantly. "Is he armed?"

John shook his head. "No… Well he wasn't… I don't think so…"

"Please, Scott. You've got to try," Gordon begged. "I daren't go back in there!"

"Okay. I've got the picture. It is Virgil we're talking about, isn't it? He wouldn't hurt me…" Scott took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Would he?" he finished uncertainly.

"No," Gordon said as if the idea was ludicrous. "You're bigger and stronger than him. You'd be able to disarm him first."

John gave Gordon a warning look.

Scott didn't see it. He was looking upwards again. "Okay. Wish me luck, and I'll see you two later." He pushed between his brothers and started running up the stairs.

Gordon and John gave each other a quiet high-five and started to tiptoe after him.

Scott stopped just short of the patio and ducked down so he was able to look into the room without being seen. From here he could see most of the family.

All except Virgil.

He couldn't believe what he'd been told, but then a lot of strange things had happened over the past month.

He up got the confidence to walk into the lounge. He didn't notice Gordon and John surreptitiously follow him in and hide behind an oriental screen.

Jeff and Mrs Tracy, Tin-Tin and Brains were in a huddle behind Jeff's desk.

"Where is he?" Scott asked.

Jeff jumped as if he'd been startled. "Oh! It's you, Scott. Thank heavens. I thought it might have been Virgil."

"Gordon and John have briefed me. How bad is he?"

Jeff shook his head sadly. "I've never seen him like this. I wouldn't have thought it possible…"

"Not dear, sweet, harmless Virgil," Grandma sniffed.

Tin-Tin looked at Brains. It was clear from where Gordon had inherited his gift of trickery.

"Are you all okay?" Scott asked.

"A little shaken," Jeff told him. "But he's done nothing to harm anyone… yet."

"Where's Gordon?" Mrs Tracy asked.

"Hiding outside," Scott told her. "He's okay. John's with him."

"Oh, thank heavens. The way Virgil went for him…" she let her sentence hang unfinished.

Scott swallowed and decided it was time to go on the attack. "Where is he, Alan?" he demanded.

Alan pretended to look at a scanner. "He's close, Scott, and he's got you in his sights. I'd be careful if I were you. Get away while you've got the chance…"

Virgil strode into the room. He was empty-handed. "Ah! There you are, Scott!"

"Too late," Alan said.

Scott turned to face his brother. "Virgil? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I've spent a month with amnesia and you're asking me what's wrong?" Virgil took a step towards Scott, his eyes boring into his brother's.

"No, I mean what's the matter now?"

"Nothing's the matter!" Virgil continued his menacing advance. "And I aim to keep it that way. I'm going to sort you out, Scott."

Scott took a defensive step backwards. "Let's talk, Virgil."

"There you go again. Always bossing people about. Well this time I'm giving the orders." Virgil continued to move forwards in a threatening manner.

Scott took another step backwards. "Fine," he said reassuringly. "I can live with that."

"You'd better, Scott Tracy." Virgil pushed Scott in the chest and forced him to take another step backwards. "You think you can intimidate me? Well, let me tell you, Brother, that the boot's on the other foot. It's my turn to intimidate you," Virgil gave Scott a another push and once again Scott found himself moving backwards, this time at a faster rate.

"I've only pretended to be intimidating to help you, Virgil," Scott protested as he continued his backward progression. "I wanted to make sure that you had something to eat. I don't want to hurt you."

"Help me, huh? Is that what you thought you were doing?" Virgil stabbed at Scott with his finger.

Scott stumbled up the step that marked the upper level of the lounge. "Virgil…"

"You think you're so tough, with your big muscles and commanding manner. But I'll tell you, Brother, you don't frighten me."

"I've never wanted to frighten you, Virgil." Scott was pushed backwards again. He found himself pressed up against the piano. He had nowhere to go. He was trapped.

"I know exactly what you're like, Scott, and you're nothing but a big pussycat."

Scott was being forced into the piano. He leant backwards trying to keep his distance from his brother. "Virgil…" he protested.

Virgil kept leaning forwards. He had both arms positioned on either side of Scott, palms flat against the glossy white surface, pinning his sibling to the instrument. "I know how soft you are, Brother. I know how you tucked the sheets up under Chip Morrison's chin when we smuggled him back into his house after he'd stowed away in Thunderbird Two."

Scott could feel the edge of the piano digging into his back, but was powerless to escape. They were practically nose-to-nose. "Virgil…" he protested again.

"I remember it was the exact same way that you used to do it to Alan and Gordon…"

Something clicked in Scott's mind. "Virgil?"

"… And me when we were children."

"Virgil?" Scott queried again in wonder.

Virgil raised an eyebrow in amusement. "That's my name. Don't wear it out."

Scott twisted his head sideways so he could see his family. They'd been joined by Gordon, John, and Kyrano and were all grinning at his predicament. He looked back into Virgil's gentle brown eyes. "You remember?"

"I remember, Scott."

"How much?"

"Oh, I'd say pretty much… everything. And don't scratch my pian-oof!" The last syllable was squeezed out of Virgil as Scott let out a cry of pleasure and grabbed him about the chest in a bear hug. "Ouch! Steady on! I've just recovered from amnesia. I don't want broken ribs!"

"Sorry," Scott loosened his grip. "This is wonderful, Virgil! Really, really great!"

"Yeah, isn't it," Virgil said dryly.

"I can't believe it."

"If you can believe that little story we just spun, you'll believe anything, Scott."

"You sure had me going. Why'd you do that?"

"Ask Gordon," Virgil suggested. "It was his idea."

"Figures." Scott smiled broadly at Virgil and smothered him in another hug. "This is so great that I'm even willing to let Gordon live after convincing you all to pull a stunt like that."

"Told you," Virgil said when he'd released himself from Scott's grasp. "Pussycat."

"So…" Gordon grinned. "Are you happy, Scott?"

"Happy would be an understatement. When'd you come right, Virgil?"

"I think I was starting to remember things while I had that headache." Virgil shrugged. "Then I went to sleep, woke up and felt better than I have for a month."

Scott looked at him in wonder. "I can't believe it," he said again.

Virgil smiled at him. "You'd better believe it, 'cause I'm planning on hanging onto these memories. Amnesia is not an experience I want to repeat." He turned away from his brothers. "So, Father. When can I fly Thunderbird Two again?"

"We've definitely got the old Virgil back," John chuckled.

"Do you feel up to it?" Brains asked.

"More than I have done for the last month." Virgil looked expectantly at his father.

For the first time Jeff's smile slipped off his face. "I think we should take things slowly, Virgil."

Virgil looked disappointed.

Scott stepped in quickly. "What if I were to go too?"

"Want to keep an eye on me?" Virgil asked with a grin.

"Yes! Is there anything wrong with that?" Scott challenged.

"Absolutely nothing. Anyone else want to come?"

"Try to stop us." Gordon said.

"You know, Jeff. We could all go and have a picnic lunch somewhere," Mrs Tracy suggested.

"You know I don't like using our craft for joy rides. Still…" Jeff looked at Virgil's face. There was no way he could resist his newly restored son. "I guess rules are made to be broken."

"Great!" Virgil was beaming.

"In that case, Kyrano and I have some work to do," Mrs Tracy slapped her hands together in anticipation.

"Yes, Mrs Tracy," Kyrano inclined his head with a smile and followed her out of the room.

Tin-Tin gave Alan an affectionate look and trailed after her father to help with preparations.

"Mind showing me your skills on the simulator before we try out the real thing?" Scott asked Virgil.

"No, I don't mind. To tell you the truth I wouldn't mind reassuring myself that I remember how to operate her correctly."

"'Her'! He called Thunderbird Two 'Her'. I love it!" Gordon sang happily.

"Okay then. Come on, Virgil." Scott had started walking past his father's desk. He saw some papers poking out from underneath. "You've lost a file." He picked it up intending to put it back on the desk.

"That was Gordon's fault," Jeff explained. "Throw them in the bin, Scott. I don't need those particular documents anymore… In fact," he held out his hand, "give them to me. I wouldn't mind the pleasure of discarding them myself."

But Scott had inadvertently glanced at the first page. Now he was reading the file incredulously. "I don't believe this!"

"Believe what?" Alan asked.

"This… This…" Scott's tone darkened. He glared at his father. "You weren't seriously thinking of doing this were you?"

"Doing what?" Intrigued John looked over his brother's shoulder at the documents.

"I didn't want to…" Jeff began.

John gasped. "But that's… that's…" words failed him.

"Unthinkable, is the word I think you're trying to say," Scott growled.

"That's what I thought…" Jeff tried to say.

"How could you even consider it?" Scott voice had grown in volume.

"What is it?" Gordon asked. Scott bent the cover back and handed it to him. His eyes skimmed over the first page. He grimaced in distaste.

"What is it?" Alan asked.

"Was this your suggestion, Brains?" Scott asked dangerously.

"I-I f-found the information a-and g-gave it t-to your f-father," Brains told him cautiously.

"And you were going to book Virgil in for it?" Scott turned back on Jeff.

"Me?" Virgil asked

"What is it?" Alan persisted.

"It's some kind of treatment for amnesia," John told him quietly. "It's not very pleasant."

"It's torture," Scott voice had increased in volume. "I can't believe you were considering it."

"That's why I…" Jeff started and was drowned out by Gordon.

"You were going to put him through this?"

"I know it's gruesome, but…"

"We wouldn't have let you," John told him.

"I admire your loyalty…" Jeff was starting to feel ganged up on by three of his sons, all of whose faces were various shades of red.

"You would have put Virgil through this over my dead body!" Scott shouted.

"Your father resisted…" Brains tried to come to his employers defence.

"How could you consider it!" Gordon waved the file under his father's nose.

"I'm surprised the medical ethics council allow it!" John stormed.

"What is it?" Alan asked, yelling to be heard over the tumult.

They were all shouting at once, none of them listening to any of the others, as each tried to put their point of view across.

A discordant sound interrupted them, causing them all to stop their strident yells and turn back to the piano.

"Thank you," Virgil said in the silence that followed. "Since it was literally my head on the line, would you mind if I had a read of what's in that folder?" He held out his hand to Gordon.

They all looked at him.

"I can read, you know," he reminded them.

"It's been so long since you could, that I'd forgotten that you can," Gordon admitted as he gave his brother the file.

Virgil looked at his family once more, before he opened the folder and began to read. He gave a low whistle. "Nasty," he said mildly.

"See!" Scott sprang to his defence again. "Father! How could you…!"

"Hold on, Scott!" Virgil raised his voice and his hand to arrest his brother's tirade. "You've got no idea what it's been like for me these last few weeks. Okay, so now the idea of this procedure is not particularly appealing. But a day ago I think I would have grabbed at the opportunity…"

"You would?" Scott asked in amazement.

Virgil nodded. "Anything to get some normalcy back. Of course if anyone had suggested it last week, I would have been convinced that you all were Gordon's 'aliens' and you were going to start your fiendish experiments on me!" He looked back at the contents of the folder, shuddered in horror and slammed the folder shut. He twisted it tightly into a knot and handed it back to his father. "Bin it!" he instructed.

"With pleasure," Jeff accepted the documents.

"Why don't we get the lasers," Gordon suggested. "Then we can all have fun blasting that file."

"Nothing like a little mindless violence to get rid of your aggressive tendencies," Virgil commented. "They're only harmless bits of paper, Gordon. They haven't done anything to you."

"It's the thought of what could have happened to you that riles me."

"I'm with you, Gordon," John said. "Coming, Brains?"

"Y-Yes, please," Brains readily agreed. "I haven't been able t-to sleep very well since I f-found that information."

"I'd rather get in that practise on the simulator," Virgil said. "Are you coming with me, Scott?"

"Yep. I don't want to see those papers ever again," Scott said. "Not even on fire."

"Virgil…" Alan said and reddened when his brother looked at him. "I'm… I… Um… Can we talk later? In private? I have a few things I want to… I need to… get off my chest."

Virgil gave him a gentle smile. "Sure. Maybe I'll come up too when you're due to come back from Thunderbird Five… Unless you want to talk sooner."

Alan's colouring had deepened to scarlet. "I think... maybe... sooner would be a good idea."

"Okay, Alan. I'll call you tonight."

Scott tugged at his brother's sleeve. "We're wasting time, Virgil. If you want to fly us somewhere for lunch, you're going to have to convince me you're up to it."

Virgil grinned. "Lead on, Bossy."

"We'll meet back here when lunch is ready, Boys," Jeff instructed. Twisting the file in an even tighter knot he started towards the patio doors.

"Father!" Scott caught his arm. "Sorry for yelling at you like that."

Jeff smiled. "It's okay, Scott. I've been feeling like you did for the last three weeks or so. I was trying to pluck up the courage to talk to Virgil about it, when he dropped this welcome bombshell on me." Still smiling he looked back at Virgil. "You've no idea how glad I am that I don't have to explain all this to you. I had no idea how you were going to react. I never thought you'd be in agreement."

"Life's full of surprises," Virgil said.

"Isn't it," Jeff agreed. "And some are better than others."

* * *

Thunderbird Two sat on top of a grassy knoll, her outline concealed from above by various camouflage devices. The Tracys and their friends were stretched out on the grass nearby digesting their lunch.

They'd brought a portable version of a communicator portrait, which they set up in the space between Tin-Tin and Gordon. "Tell us about International Rescue's first rescue, Virgil," Alan begged. "Tell us how you ended up upside-down in the Elevator Car."

Virgil groaned. "Haven't I remembered enough for you guys? I want to do something to remember the here and now." He sat up, rummaged about in his bag and pulled out his sketchpad.

"Yeah, Alan," Gordon said. "Give us all a break." He tipped Alan's communicator forward so that the viewer was pointed into the ground.

"Gordon!" Alan complained into the grass.

"Gordon," Tin-Tin scolded. "Don't be mean." She stood the communicator back upright.

"Thanks, Honey," Alan said. "I wasn't enjoying that view."

Virgil looked at the stream that was bubbling past their picnic area and sketched it on his pad. "Remember how we used to fish in that creek when we were kids."

"Yeah," John said. "Did we ever catch anything?"

"I caught a cold once," Alan said. "Virgil'd pushed me in."

"I didn't push you, you slipped."

"I distinctly remember you pushing me."

"And I remember," Virgil said proudly, "reaching out to grab you. You probably thought I pushed you."

"And I remember," Scott said, from his position flat on his back in the grass beside Virgil, "pulling you out of the creek, Alan. You were naked and covered in slime." He put his hands behind his head, closed his eyes and allowed the sun to warm his face.

"W-Why didn't you have any clothes on, Alan?" Brains asked in interest.

Alan coloured slightly. "Blame Gordon."

"Was that the time that Gordon hid your clothes in the bushes?" John asked.

Gordon burst out laughing. "That was it. I told him there were mermaids in the creek, but they didn't like bright clothing."

Tin-Tin laughed. "And you believed him, Alan?"

"I was only a little kid," Alan shrugged. "I thought Gordon knew everything to do with water and the things that lived in there. I wanted to see a mermaid."

"And as soon as you got home you went running to Grandma," John chuckled. "And told her a mermaid tried to drown you and had stolen your clothes."

"I remember," Grandma Tracy said. "I remember looking at a certain red-headed tearaway and thinking 'I know exactly who that mermaid is'."

"At least you didn't try to blame me then, Alan" Virgil said as he drew a line on the page.

"I wouldn't have believed him anyway, Darling," his grandmother told him sweetly.

Virgil beamed at her. "Thanks, Grandma."

She sighed. "It sounds so wonderful to hear you call me Grandma, Virgil."

"Grandma, Grandma, Grandma!" Gordon chanted.

John cuffed him lightly over the head. "Shut up."

The five boys had been carrying on like this for the last half hour. During that time Jeff had listened benignly. At last he spoke. "Aren't you glad you didn't have any sons, Kyrano?" he asked. "Look what I had to put up with."

"Five times the trouble and five times the joy, Mr Tracy," Kyrano said sagely.

"You've got that right," Jeff agreed and stretched. The paper serviette he'd been holding blew out of his hand.

"I'll get that!" Virgil placed his drawing implements on Scott's broad chest and raced after the bit of rubbish.

"What am I? A table?" Scott griped.

"You're built like one," Alan told him.

"You'll keep, Alan," Scott said mildly. "A month isn't that long. I'll see to you when you get back."

"Ha! You'll have forgotten by then," Alan teased.

"I just realised something," John sat up and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "We'll never get the opportunity to see if our theories were right."

"What theories?" Virgil asked as he returned to his place.

"We think we worked out what triggered off those panic attacks of yours. And, despite Scott's protests to the contrary, we think it was specific words and not him that caused them."

Scott raised himself up onto his elbows so he was able to look at his brother. The pad slid off his chest and onto the ground. "Words?"

"It just happened that it was you who said them," Alan said. "We were hoping to discover if it was your voice that was the trigger, or if anyone else could set Virgil off."

"You make me sound like a stick of dynamite," Virgil protested as he picked up and dusted off the sketchpad looking about as he did so. "Where's my pencil?" Scott found it and handed it to him.

"The way you blew your stack a couple of times, you behaved like one," Gordon reminded him.

"So," Scott asked, "what were these magical words?"

They all looked at Virgil with uncertainty.

"Come on," he said. "You've got me curious now. What were they?"

"Do you think we could trigger another attack?" John asked him.

"I doubt it. I feel fine."

"Are they common words?" Scott asked.

"Well, they're not uncommon," Gordon noted. "But around here they only seem to crop up once a month."

"Now, I'm really intrigued," Virgil said. "I'm willing to risk it. What are they?"

"Well…" John said slowly. "Basically… We think… It was anything that could be linked with that last rescue you were on."

"Oh." A cloud seemed to settle over Virgil. "I wish I could forget that."

Jeff placed a reassuring hand on Virgil's shoulder. "I think we need to know if Virgil's still got a problem. Is there any chance of this Brains?"

"I-I don't know. Without tests, it would be impossible to tell. I'd like to do some brain scans l-later, Virgil."

"What's the point of that? You couldn't find anything amiss when I had amnesia. Why should now be any different?" Virgil asked him.

"What do you mean, 'anything linked with that last rescue'?" Scott asked.

"Words that could be a reminder. We came to the conclusion that when you were showing Virgil Thunderbird Two," John said cautiously, "you said that the hangar door was hidden by…" He stopped.

"By the cliff face," Virgil finished thoughtfully. "You know, that rings a bell. I think I remember those words seemed almost… agitato."

"Agitato?" Grandma asked.

"H-How do you mean?" Brains asked.

"It's a musical term. It means agitated," Virgil explained. "It was as if they were reverberating inside my head, kind of echoing."

"But does it do that now?" Jeff asked.

"No," Virgil said honestly.

"But you're the only one who's said… the words," Alan pointed out. "What if someone else were to?"

"Well? Who's going to try?" Virgil asked.

They all looked at each other, none of them willing to be the one to take the risk.

Virgil sighed. "What do I have to do? Wait till one of you slips up and says it accidentally, or I hear it on the radio or TV?"

"Go on, John," Gordon prompted. "The idea of a trigger was your idea."

"But it was Alan who thought of cl… the phrase."

"For Pete's sake!" Virgil said in exasperation. "John, say it! Cliff face! It's not hard."

"Are you sure?"

Virgil groaned. "If someone doesn't say it soon I will change my personality and become aggressive for real."

"Okay." John looked at his brother. "Cliff face!"

Everyone looked at Virgil.

"Nothing," he said.

John relaxed. "Okay, Scott. It's your turn."

Scott eyed Virgil anxiously. "Are you sure about this?"

Virgil was becoming irritated. "Unless you want to spend the rest of your life talking to me in hand signals… Yes!"

"I don't like the idea of... Cliff face!" Scott looked at Virgil uneasily.

"What a fuss over nothing," Virgil stated. "Pass me another drink please, Tin-Tin."

Tin-Tin reached into the nearby basket and threw him an apple juice.

"So what other words were there?" Jeff asked.

"We figured that it could have been 'mudslide' and 'fall'," John said.

"I hate mudslides," Gordon stated. "The idea of being buried alive… yuck!" he shuddered.

"You boys saved a lot of lives at that rescue," Jeff reminded them gently. "Remember that."

Virgil snapped his fingers. "I just remembered something!"

"Only one thing?" Gordon asked. "I thought it was supposed to be everything?"

Virgil ignored him. Instead he slapped Scott lightly on the arm. "You were supposed to remind me!"

"Remind you about what?" Scott frowned in bemusement.

Virgil gave a dramatic sigh. "Just as well one of us has got a good memory. Remember, when I was coming back after my last flight! I told you you'd forget."

Scott was still frowning.

Virgil looked at his friend. "Brains. Do you think it would be possible to create an aircraft that we could suspend from the ceiling of a pod? One that could act as an air ambulance?"

"Oh, that!" Scott's frown cleared. "Now I remember. I told you to tie a bit of string around your finger to remind you to ask him."

"So that's what you've been trying to build with the Traceset," John exclaimed. "That's what the hooks were for; to suspend it from the pod. And the retractable wings were so it could be stored away!"

"H-How big, Virgil?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe big enough to hold four to six patients and a couple of medical staff. For those jobs where Thunderbird Two is too big."

Brains nodded in thought. "The idea has m-merit."

"You've already got a nearly working model," John said. "You'll have to show him when we get home."

"Ah, I can't," Virgil said in embarrassment. "I broke it… Things were getting on top of me," he explained at their inquisitive looks. "And I, um, threw it at the wall. I've ruined the wallpaper."

"That can be fixed," his father said. "All that matters is that you're back with us, Virgil."

He received a broad grin in reply. "And I'm never leaving again!"


	25. The End

** Twenty Five**

"_Subject: An explanation and thanks_

_Dear Doctor Kershaw_

_Gordon suggested that I should write to you. He said that he's emailed you a couple of times over the past month and kept you up with the play. But, until now, he hasn't been able to give you good news._

_He's given me that pleasure._

_Please forgive me. I have been thoughtless in not introducing myself. My name is Virgil Tracy and I can state that with absolute conviction. I am as sure of that fact as I am that night follows day, that water is wet, that the sun and stars are in the sky, and that I've just endured the worst month in my life._

_By now you will have gathered that I have recovered from my amnesia. Gordon's shown me the emails that he sent you, and your replies, and I think you've got a pretty good idea of how tough things have been for him. It's been tough for everyone in my family, especially me._

_When I think of the things I've said to my family and friends, and the things I did, or was prepared to do, I cringe, and thank my lucky stars that they are such a wonderful, understanding, loving group of people. I think otherwise we all would have been torn apart and International Rescue would have ceased to function. _

_The knowledge that I nearly destroyed the things that I hold dearest is hard to live with, but not as hard as having no knowledge of what these things were. I feel as if I've spent the last month with my mind cloaked in darkness. Every now and then a light managed to penetrate the gloom and then, just as quickly, it would fade again. Snuffed out as much by my own actions as by the amnesia._

_But you don't want to read my melancholic ramblings. I'm sure you would rather know exactly what happened that fateful day, one month ago._

_I don't think I'm jeopardising any of International Rescue's secrets by telling you that I'm the pilot of Thunderbird Two. During that rescue my principle task was ferrying the injured from your field hospital to others with more permanent facilities. It's not the most glamorous of jobs, and not as exciting as some of my International Rescue duties, but it's an important role and one that, I hope, helped to save many lives._

_On my last trip back I was talking with my brother, Scott, who's the rescue co-ordinator at Mobile Control (he's the bossy one) when I saw a flash of something white on the cliff face. Normally I would have dismissed this as being a bit of rock, but something told me that I should have a closer look. Thunderbird Two was too big to get close enough to the cliff, so I told Scott what I was planning to do and landed so I could scout about on foot._

_I came to the mudslide. It was filled with bits of rubble and, I've no doubt, bits of people's lives. I'm sure that it was also the tomb for many of those that we were unable to rescue. As you are aware, that's a cross that all rescue services have to bear, the knowledge that we can't save everyone._

_Anyway, when I got to the base of this mudslide, I could hear a voice calling. The voice of a child in fear. I couldn't climb at this point, the mud was too unstable, so I ran around it until I found a more solid rock fall. I managed to climb until I was almost level with the girl. She was standing on a ledge on the cliff. I can only assume that she'd crept to the edge, by what remained of her home, to see what had happened and the edge had given way. She was standing, and, apart from a few scratches and grazes, appeared to be unhurt. But I couldn't reach her. The river had cut a path between us and the gap was too wide for either of us to jump. The rushing water was cutting into the hillside beneath her and also washing away the pile of debris that I was standing on._

_Scott tells me her name was Maria. I wasn't able to find it out for myself. Maria couldn't speak English and I couldn't speak her language._

_Some things, emotions and gestures, are universal though, and I could tell that she was terrified. Until she saw me. I'm sure she recognised my uniform or my International Rescue insignia and knew that I would help her. I could see in her face, the relief she felt in knowing that safety wasn't far away._

_I called out to her and told her to keep calm, I'd think of some way to help. I'm sure she didn't understand my words, but she smiled and nodded as if she understood and had complete faith in me._

_I did the usual things. I checked our surroundings, looking for obstacles and dangers and anything that would provide assistance. I was at the top of a pile of mud, rock and debris and a raging river was between my objective and me. I needed to bridge the gap, but felt that if I tried to build a bridge or flying fox across, the cliff wall that she was standing against would give way with disastrous results. To tell the truth I didn't feel very secure where I was standing, but I wasn't worried about me, my goal was to rescue Maria._

_I told her everything was okay. I was going to call for help. Scott would fly Thunderbird One and lower Gordon down and he would lift her off her ledge and take her to safety._

_She smiled at me._

_She felt safe._

_She knew she would be rescued._

_I don't know what happened next. I looked down for the briefest of moments to ensure that my radio was switched on. I think I did manage to turn it on. I don't remember._

_A;jfds zksdl_

_Sorry. Even now, one month later and after all that's happened, the memories are still painful. I looked down and looked up, and Maria had fallen. I don't know how, and I don't know why. I don't know if she moved to get closer to me, or if the ledge she was standing on collapsed, but the next thing I knew was that she wasn't there anymore._

_It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. I saw her face change from relief, to surprise, to fear, and even, I swear it's true, to reproachfulness towards me for not saving her._

_I watched her fall._

_I watched her die._

_It's an image that will haunt me forever. That little girl falling helplessly. The phrase 'like a rag doll' is used frequently in novels and dramas, and that is what she reminded me of as she fell. She hit the cliff numerous times before she finally came to rest far below me. It was a miracle that she didn't land in the river. If that had happened you would never have found her._

_It's not as if I've never seen death before. I've tried to rescue people who are beyond help. I've battled against the clock and lost. I've even held dying people in my arms and tried to offer them some comfort even though I've known, and sometimes they've known, that there's nothing I could do._

_This was different. Maria was young, fit, healthy, and had her whole life in front of her and I watched, helpless, as her life was ripped from her._

_At that moment I only had one thought. I don't think I allowed myself to consider that she must be dead, I knew that I had to reach her and give her what help I could. I didn't help her get safely to the ground, but I had to do all I could to get her help now. I don't know why I didn't think of using the radio. Maybe I had dropped it with the initial shock. _

_I must have retained some sensibilities because I tried to run down the same way that I'd climbed up rather than taking the direct, but impossible route to reach her. Unfortunately I hadn't managed to get very far when I slipped and fell._

_Next thing I know I'm lying at the bottom, and this kind man, a stranger, is looking after me and telling me that I'm going to be okay. I had no knowledge of what had just happened to me. Then, more chillingly, I realised that I had no knowledge of who I was, or who these people around me were. I now know them as Gordon, Scott, and you, Doctor Kershaw, but then I had no idea._

_I had forgotten my brothers._

_There's not much point in going on. You know what happened. I didn't say anything to anyone. I was too frightened that if I said that I couldn't remember it would turn out to be true. I kept on hoping and praying that the memories would return._

_They did, but not until a month and a blinding headache later, and by that time a lot of water had passed under the bridge. In that time I nearly ruined my brother's health, alienated my closest friend, accused my family of being something they weren't, and came close to destroying International Rescue. All because I couldn't let myself believe what they were telling me, despite every word they said being the truth._

_I don't know if I ever said thank you to you before you left me in the care of my family. Gordon told me that you are off on some humanitarian effort, in some inaccessible part of the world. I hope my email can reach you. _

_I admire the work you do. As a member of International Rescue I arrive on the scene, do the difficult and dangerous, some would even say glamorous, jobs, and then leave people like you to do the mopping up. We leave you to try and repair the broken lives of those who have survived. I don't know that I would have the stamina or sense of commitment to stay on long term in some of the places where I've worked. You, and people like you, are a treasure the human race should value._

_I would like to thank you in a more tangible way, but the probability is that our paths will never cross again. There are those who consider me to be something of an artist, so I've attached a picture that I've drawn for you. I hope that you will look at it occasionally and remember one of the many you've helped._

_Wishing you a happy, healthy, and successful life_

_Yours, with my deepest gratitude_

_Virgil Tracy."_

Virgil smiled to himself and then made a copy of the letter before he, reluctantly, deleted any mention of his surname from the copy. He then re-read it, editing out all the information that could betray his family and International Rescue. He proof read it twice more, then added a note to the original copy which he addressed to each of his family and friends…

And pushed the send button, hoping that it marked the end of this particular chapter in his life.

* * *

Gordon frowned at his computer screen. A sound in the hallway made him look around to see who it was. 

"Scott! Would you mind coming in here a moment?"

"What's up, Gordon?"

"Shut the door," Gordon instructed and waited until Scott had complied. "Has Virgil spoken to you about what happened at the rock fall before he got amnesia?"

"Not really. All he's said to me was what he told me up at the lookout and that was pretty hard to follow. I guess he doesn't want to talk about it. I was going to give him a few days to get back into the swing of things and then talk to him."

"So you haven't checked your emails yet?"

"No. Why?"

Gordon indicated his screen. "I think you should read this."

* * *

Virgil knocked on the door. "Sorry to interrupt you…" 

His father looked up from his study desk with a broad smile. "That's okay. Come in."

Virgil entered the room and shut the door behind him.

"Sit down," Jeff indicated a chair. "What can I do for you?"

Virgil sat down uneasily. "This place feels different to the last time I was in here."

"It's still the same room," Jeff reminded him. "I haven't changed anything."

"I know. But it's as if it's got a different… colour to it."

"Colour?"

"As if before it was dark, all blacks and greys."

Jeff looked at Virgil with interest. "And now? What colour is it?"

"It's lighter… Maybe a dark lilac."

"And that's good?"

"It's better."

"You're the only one who would come up with a description like that," Jeff noted. "I'm having trouble imagining it. To me it's just a room. Do you often think of things in terms of colour?"

Virgil shrugged. "Sometimes."

"And what's better than dark lilac?"

"A sunny yellow, or pure white."

"And this room isn't as light as that?" Jeff asked.

Virgil shook his head. "No. The associations with this room aren't that good."

His father frowned. "Why?"

"Because of the things I did in here the other day. That's why I came here. I wanted to apologise."

"Apologise?" Jeff frowned. "For what?"

"For everything I said and did… and nearly did, while I had amnesia."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Jeff said.

"Yes, I do," Virgil rebutted. He leant forward and picked up the family photo on his father's desk. He looked at the damaged glass. "I nearly ripped the family apart, to say nothing about what I could have done to Internation…"

"Virgil," Jeff interrupted. "I repeat. You have nothing to apologise for. It wasn't you who did those things."

"Wasn't it? I sure wish I knew who it was then. I'd like to give him a black eye for treating you all that way. When I think of what I said about Brains…"

"You haven't told him have you?" Jeff cut in quickly.

Virgil shook his head. "No. I was thinking of apologising though."

"Don't. He doesn't know what went on in this room, and if I have my way he never will. It will stay between you, Scott, and me. You didn't know who Brains was, or who any of us were. And it's possible that if any of us had have been in your position we would have acted in exactly the same way."

Virgil gave a wry smile. "I can't see it myself."

"And I couldn't imagine you not knowing who we were and forgetting all those things you forgot. The idea of you forgetting how to play the piano or how to fly Thunderbird Two is unthinkable. But it happened. It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe," Virgil said reluctantly and he replaced the photo. "I wanted to believe everything everyone told me, but for some reason I wouldn't let myself. That's why I threw the Traceset against the wall. I was getting frustrated with my own stubbornness."

"It's been a tough month," Jeff said. "But it's over now. You can get on with your life. You've had no relapses have you?"

"No." Virgil shook his head. "I guess it's been a tough month for everyone."

"Yes it has. But we survived. We've had hard times before, and, with our line of business, odds are we will again. But we're strong... Together," Jeff clasped his hands together in an expressive gesture, "we can cope with just about anything. I will admit though," he added, "that I didn't enjoy not being able to trust you."

"Is that why the 'phone's password protected?" Virgil indicated the word 'Kansas' stuck to the face of the videophone.

Jeff removed the piece of paper and then the password protection. "Sadly, yes. I wasn't going to, but when you said you didn't believe us and then stormed out, I thought I'd better err on the side of caution… I was tracking your movements when you went into the hangar and the boatshed. How did you know the code to the shed?"

"Did I?"

"You punched it in correctly. I had to be pretty quick to bolt it again. I didn't want you to risk your neck by trying to operate the yacht alone."

"So that's why the lock made that sound," Virgil looked a little amazed. "I just keyed in the first thing that came to mind. I never dreamt that it was correct. So you were tracking me the entire time?"

"Yes. You had me worried when you got into the pilot's seat of that plane."

"And here I was thinking I was so clever at escaping detection," Virgil gave a wry grin. "I was quite proud of myself and all the time…" he shook his head. "Talk about '1984'."

Jeff chuckled. "That's exactly how I felt. I think I even made a comment to Kyrano that I felt more like 'Big Brother' than your father. That was after he'd told me that he knew you were hiding in the hallway."

"It's impossible to have any secrets in this place…" Virgil thought a moment. "So I remembered the code to the boatshed… It was funny how occasionally things popped to the surface that I would have said I didn't remember."

"It's one of the reasons why I was reluctant to discuss that treatment with you. I kept on telling myself that if you were remembering bits and pieces then you must be getting better. I was probably deluding myself because I couldn't bear the thought of you having to go through that medical procedure." Jeff screwed his face into a grimace. "If you thought what you said about Brains in here was bad, you should have heard what I said to his face when he told me what the treatment entailed. If anyone should be apologising to the poor guy, it's me."

Virgil shuddered. "I don't even want to think about what they would have done to me."

"No. Me neither." Jeff looked earnestly at Virgil. "I'm glad you came in here, I've wanted to ask you how you feel about continuing on with International Rescue. I'd understand if you don't…"

"What? Are you trying to get rid of me?" Virgil asked seriously, and then smiled at his father. "No, I'm fine. That flight in Thunderbird Two reminded me how much I enjoy my work. I know we won't always be able to rescue everyone, but I intend to continue trying. I just hope I never have another experience like that last one."

"Are you sure?" Jeff asked. "No one would blame you if you want to take some time off…"

"I'm sure." Virgil stood. "I'm holding you up. I'd better let you get back to work."

Jeff indicated his desk. "This is nothing important. What is important is that I am able to talk with my son."

Virgil smiled. "Do you know how wonderful it feels to hear you say that and know that it is true? I think I said early on that I liked the idea of having you as a father. I like it even better when I know you are."

Jeff's smile mirrored his son's. "Thank you, Virgil. I'm glad I've got you back as my son again."

Virgil took a step towards the door and then stopped and turned back to the desk. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"When everyone was off on the rescue to save the car on the cliff - the genuine one, you said that if you were sick and had to get to hospital, you'd prefer me to fly you there rather than Scott. Did you mean that?"

Jeff grinned. "What do you think?"

"I think that if Scott had've been in my position you would have said that you preferred him."

Jeff winked. "You know me too well, Virgil… Now let me ask you something. What colour is the room now?"

Virgil looked around. "Tangerine."

"Better?"

Virgil gave his father a warm smile. "Yep! Much better."

* * *

Scott sat back. "Heck," he said simply. 

"Yeah," Gordon agreed. "Is that what Virgil said up at the lookout?"

"Pretty much, but I wasn't taking it in at the time. I was more concerned over how pale he was and how violently he was shaking. I honestly thought he was having some kind of a fit."

"Do you still want to wait a few days before you talk with him?"

"No," Scott shook his head. "Do you know where he is?"

"I haven't seen him since lunchtime."

"I think the logical place we should start looking is in Thunderbird Two's hangar."

* * *

Images and scenes, familiar yet distant, moved in the darkened room. 

A door opened, admitting light, and then swung shut.

The darkness returned.

"So this is where you're hiding."

Virgil paused the video and turned to look at Scott, who was standing in the entrance to the theatre.

Gordon took a step closer to the screen. "Home movies?" he asked in pretend disgust. "Isn't once a decade enough for watching these things?"

"They're memories," Virgil rebuked him. "They're important! Besides," he turned back to the screen, "I wasn't able to properly appreciate them last time."

Scott slipped into a seat beside him as Gordon vaulted a couple of rows and slouched into the seat in front. He looked up at the movie screen. "I must admit, I do enjoy watching Ma, since I don't really remember her."

"Do you want me to turn the lights up?" Virgil reached for the theatre's controls.

"No. The picture's easier to see in the dark," Scott said and then added. "We've been looking for you."

"Well, you've found me."

"We read your email," Gordon informed his brother.

Virgil uttered a quiet "Oh."

"Want to talk?" Scott asked.

Virgil shrugged. "I don't know that there's much more to say…" Then he changed his mind. "Yes there is. I'd like to thank the both of you for all you've done for me this past month."

"It was nothin'," Gordon said dismissively. "Any insomniac would have been willing to do it."

"No, I mean it!" Virgil protested. "You've got no idea what you being there 24 hours a day meant to me. It kept me relatively sane."

"I wasn't much help," Scott said in shame.

"Yes you were, maybe not full time like Gordon was, but when it mattered most. Like when you gave me the new toiletries. At that point I was feeling really lost and scared, because here I was in this 'strange' house and didn't have anything that I 'knew' was mine. You gave me some certainty. It may not have been much and it may sound silly now, but it was something I could cling to. And I appreciated that."

"Why'd you decide that I was your guardian angel and Scott was the son of Satan?" Gordon asked.

"Thanks!" Scott complained.

Virgil smiled at the description. "I've been thinking about that. I think that possibly it was because yours was the first voice I heard, and you were calm and reassuring and you told me everything was going to be okay."

"And my voice was the last you heard before Maria fell," Scott said reflectively. "Or maybe as she fell?"

"And you had your 'everything's slipping out of my control and I don't like it' voice on too," Gordon ventured. "That can be pretty off-putting when people don't know you."

"My what?"

Virgil looked down. "Maybe it was that," he said quietly. "I don't remember…" He twisted his hands together. "Can I ask you guys something?"

"Sure," Gordon replied.

"How…" Virgil hesitated, a frown creasing his forehead as if he were reluctant to continue. "How did you find out her name was Maria? I didn't know that."

"We found her while we were looking for you," Scott told him. "Then her mother found her. The poor woman was totally devastated. She was crying her daughter's name over and over again."

"We never connected what happened to you with Maria," Gordon added. "You were on opposite sides of the slip. If we'd thought about it maybe we could've…"

Virgil suddenly thumped the armrest of his chair. "If I had to forget anything, why can't I forget her death? Why can't I forget the way she looked at me? It haunts me! I close my eyes and I can see her face! Falling down, away from me! Asking for my help! And I couldn't give it to her!"

"Calm down, Virgil," Gordon said. "We're not miracle workers. We can't save everyone."

"But she thought I was going to help her! She trusted me! And I failed her! I can't forget that!"

"Her death wasn't your fault," Gordon reminded him.

"Wasn't it? Maybe I was the cause! What if she'd tried to get closer to me and upset the balance of the ledge she was on? What if she'd done a happy dance at the thought she was going to be saved? What if…?"

"Virgil!" Scott admonished him gently. "Haven't you punished yourself enough?"

Virgil halted his anguished tirade, the light from the projector reflecting off a glistening dot on his cheek. "What do you mean?"

"Is it possible," Scott said slowly, "that you thought you had to punish yourself for not helping Maria, so you made yourself forget all the good things in your life?"

Virgil looked at him, his eyes bright in the projector's beam. "That's silly."

"Can you think of another reason why you got amnesia? Brains couldn't!"

"But I wouldn't want to forget you guys. I would never want to forget Father, or Grandma, or Brains, or Tin-Tin or Kyrano. That's crazy! And why would I want to forget Ma?" Virgil asked. He indicated the screen ahead of them. On it was projected a picture of their mother. It had been paused at the moment that she'd picked up Virgil as a child. She was smiling and the young boy was looking lovingly up at her. "The day she died I made a promise to her that I would think about her every day. I told her that I would never forget her. And I have remembered her every day until the day I got amnesia. Why would I knowingly break that promise?" He turned off the projector.

The theatre was plunged into darkness.

"I don't know, Virgil," Scott said in a soft voice.

They were quiet for a time.

Eventually Virgil turned the house lights back on. They all blinked against the unaccustomed brightness.

Virgil sneezed three times.

"You don't have to stop watching the videos on our account," Gordon told Virgil when he'd finished.

"No," Virgil tossed the remote to one side. "I've seen enough for today."

They sat together in silence.

Scott decided to break it. "Can I ask you guys something?"

Hoping for a change in topic Gordon said a breezy "Sure."

"Am I…?" Scott looked at his hands.

"Yes?" Virgil pressed him.

Scott looked up. "Am I really that unlikeable?" he asked, and looked at his brothers in consternation when they both burst out laughing.

"Oh, yeah," Gordon snorted. "Really unlikeable. You're so terrible I can't bear to be around you."

"Who was the most popular guy in school?" Virgil asked. "And how many friends did you have in the Air Force? Of course you're likeable. I'm the one who had the problem, not you."

"Virgil…"

"I don't mind you calling me Virg."

"But I thought you didn't like it," Scott looked surprised.

"If anyone not in the family called me that I'd soon put them right," Virgil admitted. "But coming from you guys, it's as if… I belong. Do you understand?"

"Yep," Scott agreed. "But it might be too late now. I've finally got used to calling you Virgil. It might be too hard to start calling you Virg again."

"Virgie, pirgie, puddin' and pie," Gordon chanted. "Kissed Tin-Tin and made Alan cry."

"I didn't kiss her. She kissed me," Virgil reminded him.

"You might have been in with a chance there," Gordon said. "You had her sympathy. You could have elbowed Alan out while she felt sorry for you."

"No way," Virgil insisted. "Tin-Tin's definitely in the 'little sister' category. Besides…" he gave a mischievous grin, "I prefer blondes."

"Blondes?" Scott and Gordon stared at him.

"Uh, huh."

"Not…" Scott's face held a dazed expression, "not Lady Penelope?"

"You're kidding!" Gordon exclaimed. Then he snapped his fingers. "Paradise Peaks Hotel!"

"Where?" Virgil asked in mock innocence.

"You and Penny and Tin-Tin and Alan had dinner there after you had rescued Penny, Parker and Tin-Tin from the cable car."

"Did we?"

"You took your dinner suits! Alan and Tin-Tin probably wondered off together, and Parker wouldn't eat with you, not at a posh place like that. So what did you and Penny get up to?"

"That's right," Scott rounded on him. "Spill it, Virg."

"Spill what? I don't know what you're talking about. I guess I'm not totally recovered from the amnesia."

His brothers looked at his smiling face and didn't believe him. Gordon scrambled out of his seat. "I can't resist this. I'm going to call Alan and find out what went on."

Scott waited until he'd left the theatre. "Okay, Virg. Talk. What happened?"

"You think I'd tell you?"

"Yep."

Virgil laughed. "Then you don't know me as well as you think you do."

"Come on, Virg…"

"Didn't take you long to get back into the habit, did it."

"You can tell me. You know I won't tell anyone else."

"I'm not saying another word," Virgil was grinning from ear to ear.

"You're enjoying this."

"Yes I am. Do you know how good it feels to remember something about me that the rest of my family don't know?"

Scott's face broke into a delighted grin. "Do you know how good it is to hear you call us 'my family'?"

"Do you know how good it is to say it?"

Scott gave Virgil an affectionate punch on the arm. "I've missed you."

"Yeah, I know. I've missed me too." Then Virgil looked seriously at his brother. "I'm sorry, Scott."

"Sorry? For what?"

"For the way I've treated you over the last month. I know I upset you. Don't ask me to explain why I did, because I don't know. I just know I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"But I was the…"

"Don't start that again!" Scott insisted.

"Know what I'd like to do now?" Virgil asked. "I feel like checking out the storeroom."

"The storeroom? Why?"

"Seeing what memories are stored away in there."

* * *

"…So you see, Alan, Virgil's not going to tell us anything, and there's no way I'd ask Lady Penelope, and Tin-Tin would probably keep quiet just to support Virgil. So you're our only hope. What happened at Paradise Peaks?" 

Alan frowned at the question. "Are you telling me that Virgil's got a thing for Lady Penelope?"

"That's what he insinuated."

"And she might feel the same way about him?"

"He didn't say that in so many words. That's why I'm asking you."

"Are you sure, Gordon?"

"Yep. He was enjoying teasing us."

Alan's frown deepened. "I can't remember…"

"Don't you start that. We've just got Virgil over his amnesia. Now what happened?"

"I don't know. Tin-Tin and I decided to… get some fresh air. Virgil and Lady P were still eating so we left them to it. They were at the table, talking, when we got back."

"And how long were you gone for?"

"I don't remember."

Gordon sighed in exasperation. "I'm going for a swim. If you remember call me!"

* * *

"Look what I've found!" Virgil held up an old, toy, cowboy hat. "Remember this?" He put it on his head. 

Scott chuckled. "The Sundance Kid rides again. Where's my one?"

"Here," Virgil pulled a battered hat out from a box.

Scott put it on. Then he found a plastic gun in its holster. He held it up. "I don't think this'll go round my waist now." He removed the gun and tried twirling it about his finger. It fell off. "My finger's grown too."

"You know, Butch," Virgil looked at his brother slyly, "John's home…"

* * *

John placed a glass of home-made lemonade at his father's elbow and then sat down on the lounger by the pool. He sipped at his drink, watched Gordon in the pool for a moment, and then picked up the latest book he was reading. He wriggled in contentment as he felt the warm sun on his bare chest, opened his book at the place marked by the bookmark and… 

"Oh, John-ny!"

John looked round at the singsong chorus. He groaned. "I thought you two had grown up."

Scott and Virgil were standing there; wearing their too small cowboy hats, bandannas, and with plastic pistols tucked into the waistband of their trousers.

"We're on a trip down memory lane," Virgil told him. "You know the drill."

"Yeah," Scott drawled. He removed his gun and pointed it in John's direction "Humour us or the book gets it." Water shot out of the gun's barrel and landed on the paving stones beside John's lounger.

John quickly put his book down on the table next to him, out of range of the water-pistols, and just as quickly stood to form a shield for his prize. "Don't you dare!"

"Try and stop us, Johnny," Virgil said, removing his own water-pistol.

"Not the book. Anything but the book," John protested. Water splashed his feet as it shot from Virgil's gun. "Gordon, help me!"

Gordon was still in the pool, leaning on the edge, watching the drama unfold. "I'm already wet. Why would I want to get in the path of a water-pistol?"

John decided a little pleading was in order. "Gordon! I'm appealing to you!"

"No you're not. Not in the slightest. Maybe if you were built more like Tin-Tin and your hair was longer..."

John gave up on his brother. "Dad?"

Jeff looked over the top of his spectacles and his paper. "Sorry, Son. I'm too old to go against those two."

"But I'd be helping."

Jeff smiled benignly. "You're on your own, John."

"Yeah, John," Virgil agreed.

"Okay," John held his hands up in surrender. "Just let me get my book. And keep those things pointed in the other direction!"

His gun-toting brothers replaced their water-pistols in their waistbands.

"Got the rope, Virg?" Scott asked.

"Yep. Come on, Johnny. There's a tree here with your name on it."

"What does it read? 'Sucker'?" John asked.

"No. 'Friend'," Scott told him.

John grinned.

"There ya are," Virgil had pulled some cushions off one of the poolside seats and placed them at the base of the tree. "Can't have your old, arthritic bones aching can we."

"If I weren't so pleased that you're back to normal… I think," John submitted to having the rope wrapped around his torso, "I'd be annoyed with you for saying that. Still," he leant back against the cushion that protected his back from the bark of the palm tree, "this is better than that ant's nest. Whose idea was it to sit me on it, Virgil?"

Virgil looked surprised at the question. "Scott's of course."

"Ha! I knew it!" John said triumphantly. His waited until his two brothers finished tying the knots that bound him to the tree. "Now you children run away and play elsewhere, and leave me in peace." He made a shooing gesture with his hands and then picked up his book again.

Scott didn't move. Instead he folded his hands and looked down at his captive. "You weren't much of a challenge, John."

"Was I ever?" John carried on reading his book.

"You're right," Virgil agreed. "We need someone who'll be more of a challenge." They both turned and looked towards Gordon who had climbed out of the pool and was towelling himself down before dropping onto a lounger to relax.

"Jeff? What are you doing up here? I thought you were planning on relaxing with the paper."

Jeff turned from where he was looking over the balcony rail into the pool area. He smiled at his mother. "I'm keeping out of harm's way."

"Harm's way?" she queried.

"Look," he indicated down to the poolside. "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid have decided on a new victim."

She looked down below and chuckled in amusement. "Gordon hasn't got a chance."

"He must still be tired if he doesn't realise that they wouldn't be happy with tying up only John," Jeff said. "I got out of there as soon as they dragged him away."

"John? Where is he?" Grandma shaded her eyes against the glare of the reflected light from the ocean.

"There," Jeff pointed. "Tied up at the base of that palm."

"They've left him his book as usual I see."

"They wouldn't be so cruel as to deprive him of that." Jeff watched the drama below him. "Look at them! They don't say a word to each other, but they're moving in perfect unison. I wish I knew their secret."

They watched as both Scott and Virgil crawled closer to their target.

"It's good to have them together as a team again," Grandma stated. "Things just haven't been right around here this last month. Having Virgil with amnesia was bad enough, but having Scott shut out of his life was just plain unnatural."

The 'cowboys' inched closer.

Gordon dozed, oblivious of the trouble he was in.

Even John had put down his book in order to watch what was happening.

They were only a couple of metres away. Scott looked at Virgil. He held up a hand with three fingers extended. He folded one finger back onto his palm… then the next…

Gordon didn't know what hit him. There was twin yells, quickly followed by his startled squawk as the sleeping swimmer was suddenly assaulted and tied to the lounger on which he'd been relaxing. "Guys!"

Virgil tested his knot. "Done!" He pulled another lounger closer and stretched out on it. "That was fun."

"Virgil!" Gordon complained.

Scott removed the cowboy hat from his head and dropped it over Gordon's face. "Yep!" He pulled up the lounger on Gordon's other side and settled down on it. He sighed happily.

"Scott!" Gordon protested through the hat.

"This is the life," Scott said.

"Virgil!" Gordon tried again. "Please untie me."

Virgil ignored him, preferring to agree with Scott. "You can say that again."

"Guys!"

"This is the life," Scott repeated.

"Help me!" Gordon pleaded, his voice muffled. "This hat stinks! Where's it been?"

"Can you hear someone, Scott?" Virgil asked.

"Me? Nah. You've got voices in your head, Virg."

"Well, makes a change from having nothing in my head." Virgil pulled the water-pistol out. "Ten points if I hit his right big toe."

He scored a bulls-eye.

Scott decided to have a turn. "50 points on his left little toe." He took aim.

"You missed!" Virgil crowed.

"Got his middle toe, though. That's worth 30 points."

Gordon tried to shake the hat loose from off his face. He succeeded in slipping it off his eyes and tried to blow it away from his mouth, but the material was too heavy to shift. "Will you remove this thing?"

Scott stretched luxuriously before aiming at Gordon's foot again. "Yes! That's 50 points to me Virg."

"I hope you're remembering your score."

"Please, Scott. At least remove the hat," Gordon pleaded.

"Nope. That'll teach you for getting everyone to pull that prank on me."

"Virgil? Please!"

"You know me, Gordon. What Braman is to Brains, I am to Scott. I just do what he tells me to."

Scott snorted. "Since when?"

"Are you going to hold that against me?" Gordon succeeded in shaking his head violently enough that the hat fell to the ground. It made breathing easier, but he was still held captive. "I wish your amnesia had reversed itself so you wouldn't remember what I said!" He decided to appeal elsewhere. "Dad! Help me!"

"It's a nice day for sunbathing, Gordon," Jeff called down. "Enjoy lying about while you can. You may be called away at any moment."

"But I don't want rope lines in my tan! I'll look like a zebra!"

Jeff gave him a cheerful wave.

"Grandma?" Gordon begged optimistically.

"Yes, Darling?"

Jeff heard a sound from inside and turned back to the lounge.

"You'll untie me won't you?" Gordon continued begging.

"Sorry, Darling. I've got to make a start on tonight's dinner." Infuriatingly she didn't move.

Equally infuriatingly, to Gordon anyway, Scott and Virgil burst out laughing. Behind him he could hear John's laughter as well.

The annoying sounds were abruptly drowned out by a more strident one.

Immediately Scott and Virgil were on their feet. Virgil untied Gordon as Scott sprinted across to the palm tree and helped John slip out from his bonds. Then all four of them were racing for the house.

"If this is Dad's idea of helping us, remind me to give him a big hug," Gordon puffed in John's ear as they tore up the steps.

Alan was looking down on them from his portrait.

Brains was in discussion with Jeff and Tin-Tin. They were bent over a map.

"Get going, Scott," Jeff ordered. "There's a dam about to burst. It's in a remote area and you'll have to co-ordinate the rescue. Alan will give you the co-ordinates."

"F-A-B." Scott was already spinning out of sight.

"John! Gordon! Take Thunderbird Four and The Domo." Jeff glanced at Brains for confirmation, who nodded his agreement.

"Father?" Virgil was poised, ready to move into action, hoping he was going to be allowed to assist at the rescue.

"Do you feel up to it?" Jeff asked.

"Yep!" Virgil said impatiently.

"What do you think, Brains?" Jeff queried.

"I think you'll be o-okay, Virgil. S-So long as you promise to tell anyone should you…"

"Great! Thanks!" Virgil ran for the painting of the rocket. "Out of my way, Gordon! Thunderbird Two's mine!"

Gordon grinned as he diverted his course and headed for the passenger lift. "We've got him back!"

"We have indeed," Jeff agreed.

"Be careful, Boys," Grandma called after them.

"Ready for lift off," Scott's voice came out of the intercom.

"You're cleared to go, Scott," his father instructed. "Virgil's piloting Thunderbird Two."

"Really! Great! It'll be like old times…" Scott's final words were drowned out by the rockets of Thunderbird One.

"It looks like everyone's back to normal, Mr Tracy," Tin-Tin said.

* * *

Virgil experienced the buzz of adrenaline as he slid off his pilot's chute and the seat folded into position beneath him. He activated Thunderbird Two's final diagnostic check and then changed into his uniform. 

He was back in his seat, whistling cheerfully when Gordon and John arrived in the cabin.

"Now that's a sight I like to see," Gordon said as he sat in his traditional passenger seat. "The back of Virgil's head."

Virgil's whistling didn't abate as he started Thunderbird Two trundling down the runway.

"I take if you're pleased to be back in the saddle," John said.

"Yep," Virgil was practically purring with pleasure.

"Want me to explain any of the controls?" Gordon teased. "That thing you've got your hands on is called a control yoke."

"Thanks, Gordon. I remember."

"And the bits sticking out the sides of Thunderbird Two are called wings," John said helpfully.

"Really?" Virgil exclaimed.

"And the bit at the back is the tail," John added.

"I must try to remember that." Virgil glanced briefly backwards, and his passengers saw the smile on his face. "Are you two ready for take off?"

"Ready," John stated.

"I've got my, … what do you call this strappy thing, John?" Gordon asked his brother.

"Um, dunno. Faller outer stopper?" John suggested.

"Well, whatever it is, I've got it done up."

They stopped their game while Virgil radioed his father for clearance.

They had reached the end of the runway.

Thunderbird Two starting tipping up towards the heavens.

"Safety Harnesses done up securely?" Virgil asked.

"So that's what this thing's called!" Gordon exclaimed.

"Now we know," John added.

"I'll take that as an affirmative," Virgil pulled back on the throttle. He felt a thrill of pleasure as the motors built up to full power and Thunderbird Two lifted clear of the ground.

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two."

"This is Thunderbird Two, reading you loud and clear, Thunderbird One."

"Hello stranger, welcome back," Scott smiled. "It's good to have you as part of the team again, Virg."

"Thanks, Scott. It's good to know I am part of the team."

"Well don't ever forget it again!"

"I won't," Virgil promised. His brothers shared a smile of delight as he let out a triumphant cheer...

"Thunderbirds are Go!"

The end.

_

* * *

_

_The tale's complete… I think._

_Someone asked me why I chose Virgil to get amnesia over the other characters. There's several reasons:_

_1. Closetfan's "Funeral for a Brother" had Virgil getting amnesia. That story was what created the idea for "Familiar Strangers". If you haven't read "Funeral for a Brother" go find it now._

_2. I thought it would be interesting to see how the perceived bond between Virgil and Scott would be tested under these circumstances._

_3. I thought that Virgil had characteristics and interests that I could exploit…_

_and_

_4. Virgil's my favourite character so, perversely, I enjoy beating him up!_

_Once again I would like to acknowledge Closetfan's inspiration, and Quiller's assistance. It was Quiller who suggested the Virgil/Tin-Tin/Alan triangle… though I don't think what eventuated was what she expected!_

_And finally I would like to thank everyone who took the time to submit reviews or email me personally, especially to those who reviewed daily – that was a buzz that I will remember._

_Thank you all._

_Purupuss_


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